Legacy
by Rina76
Summary: If you had no idea who the 3 silver haired brothers were, would you be game to get involved with any of them once you found out that they weren't human? Loz-centered fic. Loz/OFC, Kadaj/Yazoo
1. Introduction

Title - Legacy  
Author - Rina  
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII Advent Children or any of the characters from the film. I am not making money from the writing of this story.

Summary - AU. Imagine you have no frickin' idea who the Silver Haired Remnants are. No clue. Never met 'em. Never seen 'em before. Would you be game to get involved with any of the brothers once you found out what they really were? Even if they scared the complete crap out of you? What would YOU choose to do?

Pairing – Loz/OFC, Kadaj/Yazoo  
Rating – Swearing, M/F, adult themes, incest themes, slash themes, M/M, preg.

A/N: I'm not really sure how to categorise this fic. It's kind of different to anything I've done before. It's het (Male/Female) with definite slash (Male/Male) elements and is written from a girl's point of view. I do realise that this automatically qualifies my fic as a Mary Sue but please don't judge it so early as I am trying very hard not to let it turn into something lame, insipid and clichéd like that. The main female character is not going to hook up with either Yazoo or Kadaj so rest easy! Besides, everyone knows those sexy boys belong together. ;) Slash will be a huge, important part of this series but so will the other guy/girl stuff. It's just that writing my fic from a chick's perspective gives me as a writer a lot more freedom to play with the story and take it places I perhaps couldn't have otherwise.

I must apologise in advance for the setting as I know it is totally unoriginal however, I thought long and hard about it and honestly couldn't think of any place better to start this with, somewhere that the guys would actually go to and would have contact with other people. Shopping mall? Bowling alley? Chinese restaurant? Yeah, doesn't quite fit, does it? So, I'm sorry about that but it's the best I could do! Hopefully you will forgive me. Also forgive me for the unnecessarily meticulous descriptions of the boys at the beginning but bear in mind, I'm writing as though the author has never laid eyes on them before. Plus it was fun and fangirly for me. //^__^//

Anyway, I should shut up now and let you read the story and make up your own mind about it! Comments are eagerly awaited.

***

Part 1.

"Hey, Cate. Check out those guys." Shandi nudges me, motioning to the small group of men pushing into the nightclub queue ahead of us, like they're too important to wait in line like everyone else. "They look like they just came from a fancy dress theme party. What do you think they're supposed to be?"

"I dunno…" I say absently, my interest immediately caught by the three striking males in their similar black leather suits. They all kind of look the same, as if they're related, like cousins, with the same pale skin and hair in a light grey/platinum-alloy colour. The one at the front is the smallest in stature, his outfit consisting of a form-fitting catsuit with a zipper running up the centre beneath criss-crossed chest straps, the outer trousers slit from the knee down to reveal calf-high boots with yellow edging around the soles. A samurai sword-butt sticks out of a sheath across his back. His hair is not long but it's not short either, halfway in-between, the layered strands almost touching his shoulders. There are bangs drifting in front of his face, stirring in the evening breeze.

The person standing behind him is taller and slimmer, the hair much longer, falling down their back in a sleek, straight curtain. Their ankle-length one-piece suit is more like a dress coat and underneath it are identical boots to the first boy's. Since this person is turned away from us I can't see their face, only a lengthy silver mane – which I'm immediately envious of since mine is cropped and boring brown - but I assume it's a he and not a she because the body shape is not right for a girl. Too linear and hard. Plus the arms are too strong in shape and size. They've also got the same straps crossing over the chest as well as armour-like shoulder pads, which the other guys have too. Slung diagonally over his back is a not a sword but a holster containing a very large gun. It's very detailed and very decorative. He might be in costume but I don't think the gun is a fake. I think it's real.

It's a dangerous world we live in and I'm used to seeing people carrying items of self-defence so the sight doesn't alarm me overly much. It only alarms me when they take them out and start duelling with them in public because I really don't want to get stuck in the crossfire or have a shot ricochet off a wall and into my flesh. I like being alive and unmaimed. I'm sure security has a policy of not allowing weapons inside anyway. Guns and alcohol really don't mix.

Lastly, at the end of the group is a tall, well-built fellow. He's buff and bristling, standing at the rear of his gang like a personal bodyguard. There's a metallic, bulky-looking mechanism on his left arm – almost like a shield - and he's holding it up as though ready to use it in an instant. He has a curving pair of silvery sideburns and his hair is shorter than the other two, swept away from his face. The way it sweeps into a little curled peak at the back makes him look sort of similar to an overgrown pixie. But this would be one pixie you wouldn't wanna mess with. He's huge and intimidating, wearing a permanent scowl, and he's constantly glancing around himself as if suspicious of absolutely everyone. I can sense the aggressiveness in him from here, as though he's just waiting for an excuse to bust some heads.

His outfit comes in two parts; leather pants that seem sprayed onto his thighs and ass – both of which are impressively muscular – and a short, snug-fitting jacket with the X-shaped strips over the ribcage, zipped open at the collar to show a slice of bare, untanned skin and the deep cleft of well-defined pecs. He's wearing gloves. They all are. All together the lot of them look like villains out of some futuristic movie.

"I got no idea who or what they're supposed to be but damn. Who cares?" I murmur back to Shandi in awe. "They're hot."

"I guess. If you're into boys." Shandi shrugs and tosses her black dreadlocks over a bronzed shoulder. "The one with the long hair is kinda pretty, though. He looks enough like a chick for me to do him."

As if he heard what she just said, he turns to look at us and I feel a shock jolt right through me. Gods, he's incredibly beautiful. Like a female model from a fashion magazine only with a very unwomanly flat chest and slim male hips. Not only is he the most feminine-featured man I've ever seen but his eyes are completely gorgeous. An exotic shade of green, they're big and soft with long, dark lashes, as though he's wearing mascara, only all-natural.

Head tilted in curiosity, the effete male gazes at Shandi and me, not lewdly or leeringly as a lot of other guys have done tonight as we walked through the streets to get over here but inquisitively appraising, as if he's assessing what kind of people we are. Since Shandi is nudging me rather tactlessly and gleefully in the ribs, his focus stays mostly with me, languorously travelling all the way down to the soles of the black vinyl boots my calves are encased in. They have a row of shiny military-style buckles running up the sides, finishing just under my knees. The chunky platform heels make me feel tall and boost my self-esteem, especially since I've recently shed a heap of pounds, but with the way lady-dude is looking at me, I start to think I could have chosen better footwear for the evening. His lips quirk and he glances back up, an amused expression on his face, before soundlessly turning back around to his similarly-attired companions standing at the head of the line.

"Did you see that? He nearly laughed at me," I hiss to Shandi in mortification while she barely stifles her giggles. "Why'd you make me wear these? They look so much better on you anyway. My legs are too short."

"I lent you my lucky boots because we're trying to get you some way overdue action, remember?" she hisses back. "Don't bother with him, though. He's probably gay. All the pretty ones are. I'd go for the little randy one at the front or the dumb-looking beefcake. He might not have a lot of brains but he'd have the stamina to -"

I make a frenetic shushing motion, shutting my talkative roommate up in case any of them overhears and takes affront to her crass remarks. There are a cluster of women in front of Shandi and I and they are whispering to each other, casting surreptitious glances at the trio of good-looking males in leather. If the guys can hear what's being said about them over the muffled beat of music coming from the open doorway, they ignore it. With faces and bodies like that, they probably get this kind of attention all the time. They're utterly comfortable with what they're wearing too, as if they come out dressed like this often.

The line shifts forward and Shandi and I move up with it. There are two doormen waiting to check our IDs and stamp our wrists, one older and one younger. The older one looks like he's in charge. As we get closer to the entrance the sound of music gets louder, filling me with an excitement I haven't felt in a long time. It's been forever since I've went out clubbing and I'd almost forgotten how enjoyable it could be, having some drinks, dancing and checking out cute guys. Now that I know these unusually-dressed young men are going in there too, it's just made this night get a lot more interesting. They are now the first in line, even though they really should be at the back given their late entrance while the rest of us have been waiting for half an hour or more but I afford them grudging admiration for having the confidence to push in so boldly. I know some dudes behind me are grumbling about their brashness, muttering about who the hell they think they are, but so far nobody has had the balls to actually tell this mysterious black-clad posse to move back. The giant scowling pixie with the arm-shield and bulging biceps might have something to do with that. The head bouncer, a tough-looking guy with tattoos, multiple earrings and slick blond hair in a plaited ponytail, doesn't look like he cares an ounce that they have pushed in, greeting them as though they are VIP regulars.

"Evenin' boys," comes his laconic drawl. "How are we tonight?"

"Ready to party," is the leading male's returning drawl. His tone is indolent but underlying that is a youthful anticipation, like he's impatient to get in and see if there are any new ladies on tonight.

The bouncer chuckles deeply. "I bet you are, Kadaj. But first, you know the drill. Weapons. Hand 'em over. Tommy here'll take them from you."

He motions for the second security staff member to step up and the kid, clearly still-in-training, holds his hand out nervously.

"Aw, c'mon." I can hear the put-on pout in Kadaj's voice. "We'll behave."

"Yeah, that's what you said last time," the head doorman replies unbelievingly. "Took us all weekend to clean your mess up."

"I apologise for that, Roscoe," Kadaj says politely. "I'll be certain to keep my brothers in line tonight."

Roscoe gives him an arched eyebrow. "It's not your brothers I'm worried about. It's you. Wherever you go, so does trouble."

"Trouble is fun." Kadaj smiles unrepentantly. "You know you love it when we come here. You'd be bored out of your wits otherwise, herding humans through the door like cattle all night."

"Eh, you got a point," Roscoe concedes. "I still want your toys, though. We'll take excellent care of them like usual."

"Oh, fine," Kadaj sighs, reaching around behind his back and sliding his weapon free with a hiss of metal on leather, polished steel gleaming under the street lights as it is revealed. I see with surprise that it has two blades – like one isn't fatal enough – and the handle is blue with gold embellishments, a small tassel dangling from the butt of it. He lays it flat against his gloved palm, lovingly stroking along the underside. It's a really, really nice sword. With the way he is handling it, it's obvious that he knows how to use it too.

Before he hands over his prized possession, Kadaj stares penetratingly at the younger bouncer, making him gulp nervously.

"Tommy, is it? You're new and you don't know the rules yet. Let me explain them to you." Kadaj is speaking in an overly patronising way, like he's talking to a brainless child.

"One: Don't let anyone touch our weapons. Two: Especially don't let anyone touch THIS weapon. It's very valuable and it is not easily replaced. If I find out anyone touched it, played with it or even /breathed/ on it they're going to have to answer to me. And that includes YOU, sir," he stresses to the second, more uneasy doorman, giving him a frosty, menacing look.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." The other guy nods jerkily, taking the sword from Kadaj, careful to handle the twin-blade on the blunt side. He walks into a small coat room, carrying the weapon gingerly in both hands held away from his body, as though afraid it might come to life and bite him.

"Goes on the top shelf, Tommy," the first bouncer calls out to him before taking Kadaj's offered wrist and stamping the space of skin between his glove and sleeve with the club's logo. Shandi told me it costs a small wad of Gil to get into this popular place but for Kadaj and his crew that rule apparently doesn't apply. Unclipping a red velvet rope from between two barrier stands, Roscoe lets Kadaj go through, telling him cheekily, "Be good, kiddo."

Smirking at him, Kadaj rejoins, "You know that's impossible. See you later, Roscoe."

Shaking his head at what he knows is going to happen a bit further on in the evening, Roscoe glances despairingly after Kadaj's boyish form as he disappears smoothly up the stairs. He then turns to the long-haired member of the clan who has been patiently waiting for his turn, nodding respectfully at him. "Yazoo."

The one named Yazoo nods back, a graceful sideways incline of his head, compliantly passing over his ornately-embellished gun for safe keeping. It's a nice piece too. It's large and long but despite its size it seems light, not heavy. Or maybe it just appears that way because he's accustomed to lifting it. When the head bouncer gives it to Tommy the boy staggers with the unexpected weight of it so it can't be that light after all. Yazoo doesn't tell either of them to be careful with his firearm, seeming already certain that it's in good hands. While Tommy goes back into the coat/weapon storage room, Roscoe stamps the inside of Yazoo's white wrist and welcomes him through the red rope as well, Yazoo smiling graciously for the courteousness. He seems like the quiet, introspective type; the type that stands back, listens and observes. He seems like a thinker, not a talker. Given that I don't know him at all, I'm only guessing here but my theory is based on the fact that so far, I haven't heard him utter a single syllable. Maybe he's introspective or maybe he's just mute. Not that it matters either way. When you're that friggin' beautiful, people wouldn't even notice if you only communicate with nods and smiles. You can have a whole conversation using just nods and smiles. That's how I respond when people start telling me about something tedious and won't shut the hell up.

As the biggest, broadest male out of the bunch steps forward, removing that weird device from his forearm, Roscoe glances uneasily at it. "Uh…Listen, buddy...Is that thing off? Last time I went to take it down from the shelf I got zapped straight across the room. Hurt like a son of a bitch."

"Oh. Sorry about that, dude. I musta forgot to put the safety on," the burly guy says apologetically, his voice deep and rich. He presses something under the metal contraption and there's a click. "There ya go. Just don't bump this button, all right?"

Taking the strange weapon, Roscoe gives him a resentful look. "You could have told me that BEFORE I ended up slamming back-first into the wall. My fingers still tingle sometimes."

The brawnier brother shrugs unconcernedly, pulling a gun exactly like Yazoo's out of a holster on his left thigh and shoving it into Tommy's arms. "I wouldn't worry about that. It'll wear off sooner or later."

"It better be sooner or I'm sending you my medical bill." Roscoe gives him a stamp and lifts the rope, inclining his head welcomingly. "Enjoy your night. And no smashing the furniture this time or that's another expense you'll be getting slugged with."

Sideburns just grins wolfishly. "I'll try not to. Can't promise anything, but."

They butt their fists together as if they're old pals and then the doorman stands aside, letting him enter the premises. The gaggle of gossiping girls in front of us pay their fees and are let in and Shandi and I soon follow, the tattooed bouncer scrutinising our identification cards, taking our money and imprinting our wrists with red ink before waving us through, grinning flirtatiously at our party-girl outfits. I smile back, always having had a thing for muscly guys, especially with tatts and earrings. He's kinda sexy. But what's even sexier lies at the top of that staircase so I eagerly climb up them after my roommate, trying not to get too jealous at her long, long legs as she strides athletically up the steps in her wedge-heels. She's wearing a tiny pair of white shorts and a sparkly blue bandeau top, showing off a perfect tummy and yards of amazing dark copper skin. Her ebony hair is formed into thin ropes and on the end of each of them are little black beads that clink against each other when she moves. She's a tall, skinny babe and I can't help feeling small and stunted next to her, not to mention pale. Then again, there's a lot of pale folk in this town, including those tempting triplets and I look forward to watching them all night and imagining them out of their suits. If we can find them, that is. This place is looking packed to the rafters and every step I take upwards brings more people into view. Shandi said it was the trendiest place to be on a Saturday night and it appears that she's correct.

Once fully inside the club, the dull beat of music we heard outside becomes loud and pumping, the pulse of bass throbbing through the centre of my body. A greyish smoke haze hangs in the air, punctuated by stabs of coloured laser lights, shooting and whirling across the room, making ever-flowing patterns and designs on the walls and ceiling. Columns of black marble reach up to the roof and spaced beside them on the carpeted areas are couches and lounge chairs, along with tall potted tree-ferns which I'm betting people use as ashtrays. I gaze around in exhilaration, noting the long bar running along one wall, the huge dance floor which is already half-occupied, the central spotlighted stage for the main acts and finally, the various podiums situated around the place where scantily-dressed ladies are gyrating their hips suggestively and spinning around poles for the entertainment of men. Also surprisingly, for a lot of women too. Checking out the strippers are prettily-dressed lipstick lesbians, like Shandi, and then on the opposite scale there are some butch chicks with short, clipped hair as well as manly clothing and mannerisms.

Not here for the female flesh, I search the milling mass of people for the three intriguing brothers, finally locating them to my right. It's easy to spot them since they're the only ones with hair the same colour and shininess as metal. They have a few brief words, cash is distributed evenly and then they split in different directions. The wild-child called Kadaj starts strolling across to the podiums where the dancers are, an anticipative smirk on his cherubic lips. I'm fairly certain he's not old enough to be in here but I'm also fairly certain nobody is going to challenge him about it either. As he's striding confidently through the crowd, people are stepping to the side and swiftly moving out of his path, like there's an invisible force field around him, everyone sensing that it's a wise idea not to get in his way or piss him off.

Yazoo doesn't so much force people aside as flow through them, silently and fluidly, like he isn't even there, like a ghost. That's not to say people don't notice him; it's just usually after he's already passed by. That's when the staring starts. His shoulder blade-length hair shimmers under the lights like threads of spun silver, swaying gently across his back, appearing soft and fine yet heavy and luxurious at the same time. The hem of his long ebony coat swishes around his ankles as he walks. He seems like a creature too perfect to be real, untouchable and ethereally elusive, like a wingless angel or an ageless vampire, but here he is, walking amongst us mere mortals, giving us a glimpse of what true grace and beauty is. Like everyone else, I watch him in enthrallment until he is swallowed up by the crowd and the cigarette haze and I can't see him anymore.

I note that the bigger brother doesn't bulldoze into the horde or go for the dancers. He heads straight for the bar, glaring at some unfortunate kid sitting in what I presume is his favoured spot. Afraid of getting his head punched in, the kid speedily vacates the stool, the larger male claiming it and putting his first order in; orange-coloured liquid over ice in a short glass. Shandi and I started drinking back at our apartment so we're halfway tipsy already but we can definitely handle more so we cross over to the liquor-supplying station as well, only further down, away from the big guy so he can't hear us talking but near enough so that I can check him out if I feel like it. Which I very well might.

"Isn't this place great?" Shandi enthuses as we take our seats. "Look at all the eye candy!"

She means the strippers but I glance at the yummy chunk of leather-covered muscle a few feet away and reply murmuringly, "Oh yeah. Total eye candy."

"What would you like, ladies?" comes the efficiently friendly voice of the bartender, one of three working behind the counter – two guys and a girl, all decked out in professional uniforms of white shirts and black vests. He's young and mega-cute, with bright blue hair styled into long spiked barbs, like porcupine spines.

"Coconut Sunset, thanks," Shandi rattles off, barely even glancing at him; already eyeing off everything in high heels within a ten metre radius. He gazes at me with expectant violet eyes.

"And for you?"

"Ball Bruiser, please," I say with a smile. Grinning back, the dude pulls out a couple of glasses and starts expertly pouring and mixing. I observe his skilled motions with interest, still smiling to myself. Ordering dirty cocktails gives me a kick every time, though I'm sure this guy has heard them all a million times over. And worse. His movements are fast and practised and in only a minute or so he whips up a layered yellow and red tropical blend for Shandi and then slides a creamy lilac-coloured creation across to me, both of them sporting straws and bits of fruit on the rims; Shandi's a piece of pineapple and mine a split cherry. I guess it's my shout because my roommate is too occupied ogling skirts to open her purse so I pull some Gil out of my pocket and pay the blue-headed guy behind the counter, thanking him warmly and a little flirtatiously for his speedy service. He grins cutely at my appreciation and darts off to serve someone else. I watch as he flips a bottle in the air and deftly catches it, the white shirt he's wearing pulling across his arms and upper back, showing how toned and fit he is. That bar-boy is totally beddable. I'd love to see him out of that shirt. However, there's practically zero chance of scoring with him as he's clearly busy working and doesn't even have time to talk to me, let alone do any bedding. Pity. Stirring my drink with the straw I sigh wistfully to myself, lamenting my inconvenient taste in men. I'm in a club full of hundreds of eligible bachelors and here I am crushing on the staff. Yeah, I really know how to pick 'em.

Fortunately, there's another beddable bachelor sitting just a few stools away from me and he's not here to work. At least, I /hope/ he's a bachelor. Knowing my luck, he's probably married with five kids. As I'm taking a sip of the smooth blueberry and cream concoction in front of me I furtively peek at armshield-dude, looking for a wedding ring. I don't see any. He's got gloves on but there's no ring-bulge under the second finger of the left one. If he was wearing a gold matrimonial band I'd be able to see it because those gloves are just as close-fitting as his pants are. I take a sneaky glimpse downward, wondering how the heck he squeezed his sizable thighs into those skin-tight leather trousers. I mean, he looks amazing in them but to get the damn things off you'd need a can opener or something. I don't even need to be furtive while I ponder this because he's not paying attention to anybody or anything around him; only to his drink. He listlessly swirls the ice cubes around in his glass, throwing his silver head back and chugging down the amber liquid before promptly ordering another one from the female barkeep. He's actually very handsome in a manly, macho, square-jawed type of way, and his body is beyond outstanding, every bit of it rock-hard and powerful. He's not that old, either – maybe mid-to-late twenties, which is my preferred age bracket. He must have felt my eyes on him as he unexpectedly glances my way, intercepting my stare. He's frowning but he doesn't look pissed though. Just intense. Very, very intense. I turn away quick, feeling quite stupid and obvious. I may as well be wearing a shirt that says 'Desperate'.

"You gonna drink that or what?" I say to Shandi, motioning to the cocktail on the bar she doesn't even realise is there.

"Oh. Thanks, roomie," she belatedly smiles, grabbing it and tossing the pineapple chunk into her mouth, talking while she chews. "So, are you glad I dragged you here now? Admit it; it's not that bad to go out in public and socialise. You know, around other actual humans?"

"I'm not socialising yet," I reply grumblingly. "You realise I'm missing my shows as we speak? Captain Kincaid is supposed to kiss Xuula tonight and I'm gonna miss it."

Rolling her eyes to give me an exasperated look, Shandi rejoins, "What would you rather do – watch other people get lucky on TV or get some yourself? I know you think Captain Kincaid is a hunk with a laser-gun but he's not gonna fly his spaceship down to your bedroom window and climb through it anytime soon."

"Well, at least Captain Kincaid wouldn't bore me with brain-numbing small talk or turn out to be some obsessive stalkery freak who follows me around all night," I fling back. "I hate the whole meeting-new-guys thing."

"You have to meet them and talk to them in order to gain back your confidence," she reminds me, sipping on her Coconut Sunset. "It's the only way to get over this whole nasty divorce thing. You gotta start acting like a single girl again." She gestures to the crowd with drink in hand.

"C'mon, Cate. Open your eyes. There's tons of guys in here who'd be keen to break your man-drought. What about that one right there?"

I give an unimpressed expression at the man she's picked out. "What, him? He looks like a caveman. Look at how thick his eyebrows are. He's clearly never heard of waxing."

She indicates to someone else leaning on a marble column. "What about him, then?"

"Major sleaze. Probably addicted to porn."

"How do you know?"

"I can just tell."

"Okay. Next to the tree-fern?"

"Stuck up his own ass."

"That guy?"

"Loser."

"Him?"

"Too boring and ordinary."

"Or maybe you're just too fussy."

"Or maybe I just have high standards."

"Or maybe you just like those guys with all the weapons that pushed into line before us. You're turned on by them because they look like characters from one of your science-fiction shows." Shandi glances down the bar at the muscle-bound dude in the ultramodern black suit to illustrate her statement, looking back at me with a knowing smirk. "Stop me if I'm getting warm here. Or if /you/ are."

"Shut up." I feel my cheeks growing pink at her accurate guess. "They're interesting, all right?"

"I wouldn't get too excited," she cautions. "They're probably gamer geeks who play Ninja Siege in their basement every Saturday night and then go out to show off the costumes they bought over the internet."

"You reckon?" I query doubtfully, picking the cherry off the rim of my cocktail glass and popping it into my mouth. It's possible they could be role-players but I'm not getting the geek vibe from them. Not at all. The only vibe I get from those brothers is a mysterious, edgy one. And then there's what the bouncer said about them trashing the club last time they were here. Geeks don't trash clubs. Geeks sit in a corner and be geeky. They don't stride into a place like they own it, as these three have done.

"I don't think they're gamer nerds. They're way too cool to be nerds," I muse to Shandi, setting the cherry stem into a nearby ashtray. "Shit, even if they are, I don't care."

"So, go for it," she encourages. "If you like them that much, do something about it."

"And do what? Try to chat all three of them up at once?" I make a negative face. "Yeah, right."

"Well, just pick one, then. Which one is the hottest?"

"Oh, man. That's a tough call," I confess, peeping at spray-on-pants guy again. He doesn't catch me this time. I can't see the other two anywhere but I know they're all equivalent in the hot-as-hell stakes.

"While you're thinking about it, we should have another drink," Shandi helpfully suggests, draining the last of her Coconut Sunset and smacking her lips. "You aren't drunk enough to hit on anyone yet."

"No, I'm not," I concur, hoovering up the final dregs of my own drink with what would have been a loud slurping noise if could you hear it over the thumping music. "But I'm getting there."

"Same again?" she asks me, holding up her hand and clicking her fingers for bar service.

"Nah, think I'll try a Purple Panther. And you're buying this round. I ain't made of money, ya know."

"Mixing your drinks…you'll have one mother of a hangover in the morning." She shakes her head. "What is it with you and the colour purple anyway?"

"What? It's a great colour. Oh, darn. I was hoping it'd be the other guy," I mutter in disappointment as the second male bar staff member comes over to serve us. He's got light brown hair in a crew-cut and is nowhere near as cute as porcupine-boy but as long as he can keep the drinks coming, I'll forgive him for that. Anyway, if I want to look at something cute, I can always turn to my left, lean back on my chair and visually molest the firm, leather-clad rear end of the pixie on steroids.

Anybody got a can opener?

***


	2. Loz is Not Ugly!

A/N: Thank you for reading the first part! I was afraid nobody would be able to find this since I had to choose characters when I first uploaded it. I guess if you like Loz, you'll have found it by now. I hope you liked the beginning and here's the second chapter. Finally the boys start making themselves known and you learn a bit more about Cate. Enjoy! 

Part 2.

The next time I indicate for a refill at the bar I'm delighted to be served by spiky-haired Blue Boy and I ask him to make me a Grape Grope, continuing my trend of purple-hued cocktails. I've set myself a goal to try every one there is on the drink menu tonight. They're costly and my eccentricity seems to amuse him but if I'm gonna get smashed I'd rather be drinking stuff that looks and tastes good, as opposed to bitter beer or unexciting spirits. Not only that but I like gazing into his eyes when he leans across the bar to listen to me. There aren't many guys who have natural violet eyes such as those. They're magically lovely. It'd be even lovelier looking at them from above me but alas, I'll just keep on dreaming.

Since I'm a girl and therefore have a bladder the size of a thimble, I soon have to duck off to the bathroom to relieve myself of all this excess liquid. Having been here a few times before, Shandi is familiar with the layout of this place so I ask her where to go and she directs me to the rear of the club, down some stairs.

"Just don't go too far along the hall or you'll walk into the private booths. You know, where guys go to get one-on-one attention from the dancers?" Shandi's mischievous eyes scan me over from head to foot. "Looking like that, girl, they might think you're one of them."

"That's very reassuring, Shandi," I say sarcastically, looking down in distaste at the baby-pink halter top clinging all-too-revealingly to my breasts and the denim mini-skirt that shows much more of my legs than I feel comfortable with. "Did I mention how thrilled I am that you dressed me in this crap?"

"You'll never get laid dressing like a hobo all the time," she scoffs. "In that outfit you will tonight, though. Guaranteed." She grins with wickedness. "You can thank me in the morning."

"These hooker-boots better work, bitch, or I'll be kicking your ass with them later. And don't let anyone steal my seat," I warn before heading off the way she directed, passing behind Sideburns but he's got his broad back to me and doesn't even notice as I go by. I continue along, trying to walk through the crowd elegantly and not like an unco dork. I'd feel a lot more confident in a pair of sneakers but Shandi wouldn't let me even think about slipping them on and handed over these gothic monstrosities instead. Even though her boots are surprisingly comfortable to wear I'm still not used to walking in such thick soles and elevated heels. I feel like I'm hunching over with my butt sticking out so I make a conscious effort to stand up straight, sucking my tummy in and pushing my shoulders back, carefully placing one platformed foot in front of the other while attempting not to bump into anybody. I pass by a group of guys who wolf-whistle and call out cheekily, trying to get me to go talk to them but none of them interests me like those sexy silver-haired siblings so I smile and keep on walking. It is kind of nice to be spotted and complimented, I must admit, instead of being ignored because you're overweight or mistakenly thought of as expecting a baby which did happen to me a couple of times when I was chubbier and more bloated. If you want to make a fat girl feel like shit, just ask if she's pregnant. Works every time. Won't happen tonight, though. Depressed chubby me is gone and she isn't coming back. Make way for slim, sassy me.

Sidestepping laughing clumps of patrons towards the back of the club, I come to the stairs, spotting the sign for the bathrooms which sports a helpful arrow pointing downward. It also says PRIVATE BOOTHS but I'm staying right away from there. Having some painted princess shove her boobs in my face isn't really one of my turn-ons. Unlike my roommate, I like men too much. I love everything about them; their eyes, their smiles, their voices, their scents. Their tall, hard bodies. I can understand why Shandi loves women with them being all soft and perfumed and pretty but if they ain't got a penis, they just don't do it for me.

Holding onto the wooden handrail, I navigate the set of descending steps with great caution, trying not to trip over my own feet as the last thing I want is to sprawl down the stairs and land on my face. Not that it'd be the first time I've tripped over in public but now I'm in a skirt and letting everyone have a good view of my lavender lace underwear is something I'd rather not do. I'm relieved when I reach the bottom without incident and, dodging people standing and chatting inconsiderately in the narrow hallway, I finally find the door to the ladies room.

Of course, there's a huge line. Always is for female toilets. I take my place and wait, the others already here giving me the quick once-over, silently criticising and judging my outfit, shoes and hair, as women do. I can feel them looking at me but I don't pay much heed to anyone else, not caring what they're thinking; only wishing for the queue to hurry up so I can pee. While I'm waiting I glance around, noting the midnight blue tiles and shiny features, such as stainless steel taps, sinks and hand driers. Even the soap dispensers are silver and the large round mirrors are edged in it too. Halogen lights are dotted over the blue ceiling, like small moons. It's a nice bathroom. Eventually, it's my turn and I enter the cubicle, discovering that even the toilet itself is made from stainless steel. As I lock the door and sit down I make a note to get me one of these stylishly modern loos when I have a house of my own and not a crappy two-bedroomed apartment as big as a shoebox. For that dream to come true I'll have to not only sleep with a rich guy tonight but marry him too and I don't see that happening anytime in the close future.

I can still hear the music from upstairs in here which is good because it covers the sound of everyone peeing. I hate going if people can hear me. When I'm done repositioning my skirt I flush and go to wash my hands, the space-age faucets turning on automatically when I wave underneath them. I check my makeup, which is something I hardly ever wear because I frankly couldn't be bothered applying it every day, glad to see my black eyeliner and shadow hasn't smudged messily on me. I fetch some clear lip gloss out of my pocket and slick it onto my smallish mouth. I have a bad habit of licking my lips and they get dried out and chapped so I need to keep my gloss-stick with me all the time for that reason, not so much to keep myself looking great. I never wear the coloured type because it just ends up on my teeth or sticking to any glass I drink out of. Apart from Shandi's tacky clothes, I'm fairly happy with the way I look this evening. I'm not beautiful and I don't have a plump, bee-stung pout or huge anime eyeballs with fluttering lashes but I have been told that I'm cute and spunky and that's good enough for me.

I then turn my head from side to side, checking that my 'do hasn't collapsed. My hair is the exact same shade as my eyes – dark cocoa brown – and because it tends to frizz uncontrollably when it's long I keep it cut short, boy-style. Most of the time I wear it softly swept forward in an easy-to-manage, street-urchin kind of way but sometimes, like tonight, I whack some styling goo in it and sculpt it upwards towards the centre, creating a sort of Mohawk effect. My sapphire nose-ring twinkles in the light; the studded jewellery, smoky eye-makeup and upswept hair making me look a bit punky and rock-chick. I like to be a little different than other girls and that's why I'd never go blonde like the two females standing to the east of me, both heavily made up and cheap-looking, also monitoring their appearances and adjusting their tops to show maximum cleavage. They start talking and normally I wouldn't bother to listen to a couple of brainless bimbos gushing about boys but I overhear something that catches my ear.

"Hey, Justine. Did you see who's here tonight?"

"No, who?"

"The one and only Kadaj."

Justine gasps and turns to her smug friend. "No way! And the others?"

"Here too, since they're all joined at the hip. You'd think they were Siamese triplets or something." The second girl pulls out red lipstick and smears it around her mouth, pressing her lips together. "That Kadaj is so effin' hot."

Pretending to fix my hair while they gossip, I hang around for a bit longer, hoping I might learn something useful from their drunken blathering.

"I like his brother," Justine joins in. "Not the big ugly one, the pretty one with the long hair."

"Yazoo?"

"Yeah," Justine sighs, gazing into the mirror over the basin with far-away eyes. "He's beautiful."

I do agree with her on that but her comment regarding his other sibling makes a flicker of anger cross my face. The big one is NOT ugly. Even though he was frowning when our stares met for that split-second, his handsomeness was strikingly evident and I think it's unfair to label him as unattractive just because he's bigger and more masculine than his brothers. I'd love to give that superficial slut a piece of my mind but I keep my mouth closed, wanting to see what else she and her peroxided bestie are going to say.

Justine sighs again, longingly. "I would so have his babies."

The other wench gives a snorting sound. "Good luck with that since he's gayer than your cousin Ricci."

"Yazoo is not gay!"

"Yeah, he is."

"No, he's not, Sara," Justine insists. "My ex-boyfriend's sister had a one night stand with him."

Sara huffs derisively through her nose again. "She did not."

"Did too. Told me herself. She said it was the best sex she'd ever had. Apparently he's got an incredible mouth." Justine's cheeks flush, obviously imagining Yazoo using it on her.

"She's full of crap," Sara decrees, cleaning up the edges of her lipstick with a fingertip. "Here's what I think happened: She hit on him, he rejected her – because he sucks DICK with that mouth – and she made up that story to make herself feel better."

"It's true," Justine perseveres. "She really slept with him."

"Whatever." Not buying it for one minute, Sara pulls out a powder-puff and dusts her face over with it.

Justine takes a deep breath, pulling her top down a little further to show more of her boobs. "I'm gonna talk to him tonight."

Sara slants her friend a disbelieving look. "Uh huh. That's what you say now but I bet when you actually see the guy you wimp right out and hide behind a potted plant."

"Well, I've never seen you talk to Kadaj either. Not since he grabbed your arm walking past and you fainted." Justine giggles at the memory.

"I had a lot to drink that night, okay?" Sara retaliates indignantly. "At least he touched me which is more than you'll ever get from long-haired Girly-boy."

"He's not a girl!" Justine argues, defending Yazoo's manliness all the way out the door as she and her gal-pal leave, teetering in their ludicrously high heels. I roll my eyes disgustedly in the mirror, hoping they get so drunk that they puke all over each other because that's what they deserve. Shallow whores.

As I exit the toilets and come out into the hall I hesitate and instead of going left back to the club, I turn right, heading down towards the room containing the private booths. I wasn't going to look in here but curiosity has gotten the better of me so after a quick survey of the corridor to make sure nobody's watching, I stick my head around the doorway. I see two rows of booths lining each side of the dimly-illuminated room, some open and empty with only a plush couch inside, others occupied with curtains drawn. By the sound of the male groans coming from behind some of them it appears dancing isn't the only service the girls offer and I suddenly feel the need to get out of there before somebody spots me and asks what the hell I'm doing, peeping through the door and listening like a voyeur. I spin around, intending to go back the way I came, but I halt abruptly in my tracks, my heart nearly stopping.

It's Kadaj. I'm face to face with him.

He was right behind me and I didn't even hear him, didn't even sense him there. I stand frozen on the spot, stupidly staring at him, only one thing running through my startled mind.

His eyes. Good Gods, his EYES!

They're the same brilliant green as Yazoo's but utterly inhuman, with thin, narrow black pupils like those of an amphibian or reptile. They also have a strange shine to them, similar to a fox caught on the side of the road in car headlights.

That…that's not normal. That's downright freakish. And frightening.

It's about then that I realise they must be lizard-style contact lenses and I almost laugh at myself for being so silly. It's part of his sci-fi costume. Duh. No-one can actually have eyes like that. I bet the whole three of them are wearing the same lenses too. I just didn't notice because I hadn't looked this closely before. I'd be relieved about that except there are other things which disturb me about Kadaj. His height, for instance. When he's next to his taller brothers, he looks small but now that he's standing before me, and over me, I'm the small one. Power radiates from him, like an aura, along with a feline seductiveness he's only too conscious of. He looks me up and down with undisguised interest.

"Are you my lapdance?"

"Oh no, I'm not a…I don't work here," I hastily reply.

"A thousand apologies," he drawls insincerely, making a point of glancing at my buckled footgear. "I just assumed you did."

If it were any other guy I'd probably hurl some scathing remark back but with such a daunting, dominant male presence right in front of me I can't form words, let alone string any together coherently. He has the same arresting beauty that Yazoo possesses except where Yazoo somewhat resembles an elegant woman, Kadaj's face is unmistakably that of a teenage boy; all milky softness and smoothness, little nose and perfect pouting lips. Being this near to him I can see just how young he really is but when I look into his eyes, there's nothing young or innocent about them whatsoever. They are icy and eerie. Dead yet dangerously aware. Like snake eyes. I know he's wearing special-effects lenses but holy hell, they look real. And while they terrify me they also entrance and mesmerize me, making it very difficult to drag my wide gaze away from his.

He cocks his head at me, his hair swaying much like Yazoo's, only shorter, falling half across his face, the tips extending just below his collar. It's very stylized, like someone's taken a razor and ran it down each section as it's been twisted to achieve that urban feathery look. Either that or he's six months into growing out a very close cut.

"May I go past," he begins in a humorously polite tone, "or would you like to stand here and stare at me for the rest of the evening?"

"Um. Yes. No! Sorry," I stammer, stumbling backwards until I smack into the wall, giving him plenty of space to get by in the narrow corridor without him having to brush against me. I can't explain why but I don't want him to touch me. If he does I'm afraid I might scream. He gives a little smirk and glides past me with the soft creak of leather, disappearing into the room with the booths. Now that he's gone I force my jelly-legs to get moving again, damn near sprinting up the hall and scaling the stairs two at a time, frantically checking behind me to make sure he's not following. He's not. I exhale a long shuddery breath of relief as I burst into the club again and merge with the crowd, never having been so happy to be surrounded by masses of people before. Normally, I'm not one for crowds but right then I'm thankful for the cover they give me and I weave and zigzag through the collection of club-goers back to the bar, not even caring about the way I'm walking this time. If I managed to gallop up those stairs without tripping ass-over-head I think I've learnt how to handle these boots now. Besides, I've got other things on my mind apart from strutting like a supermodel.

I'm glad to see my stool is still vacant and I slump gratefully onto it, my heart still racing. Shandi squints at me.

"You okay?" she asks in concern, touching my arm. "You look kinda spooked."

"I AM spooked," I reply, reaching for the drink she's ordered for me in my absence and thirstily gulping half of it down. Swiping across my mouth with the back of my hand, I look at her. She's waiting for an explanation.

"I came across one of the brothers in the hallway," I confide. "Kadaj."

"The little randy one?"

"Randy, yes. Little? Not so much." I gaze pensively into my cocktail. "And not as young as you might think, either. Appearances are deceiving."

Shandi frowns in puzzlement, not understanding the problem. "But he's doable, right?"

"Well, yeah. He's very doable," I unwillingly divulge, my skin still buzzing from all the sexually-charged electricity that was oozing from his pores. "He even thought I was gonna give him a lap dance."

"So, why don't you, then? You never know. He might give you a big tip." My roommate grins at her own innuendo.

"I dunno, Shandi," I say tentatively. "Yes, he's hot but there's something about him that scares the utter shit out of me."

"What do you mean?"

"He's dangerous. Bad, you know?"

"You LIKE bad boys," she reminds me. "You married one, didn't you?"

"Not that bad. I think he's evil." I suppress a shiver, recalling those cold, cold eyes. "Like a demon or something."

She laughs, thinking I'm exaggerating. "Well, what about the big one? He seems harmless. Plus, he was eyeing you off as you sashayed by."

I perk up and look back at her interestedly. "Was he?"

"Yeah, and he's still doing it." She affords me a teasing smile. "Looks like you might get lucky sooner than you thought, Cate."

***


	3. Dirty Dancing Or Loz’s Low Self Esteem

Part 3

After Shandi tells me I have an admirer, I swivel around on my seat to find the biggest and widest of the black-suited trio staring at me. He quickly averts his gaze, as if he doesn't want me to know that he's checking me out but hey, I don't mind at all. That's why I came here, right? To get noticed? And it seems like he's definitely noticing, though he's trying to act like he's not, pretending to examine his drink like it's suddenly the most interesting substance on the planet. Forgetting all about my spooky hallway encounter with Kadaj, I continue watching his older brother, waiting for him to look back up again. Sure enough, in few more seconds he does, turning his head slightly and shifting his focus sideways, back towards me. His eyes widen, as if amazed to find me still looking in his direction. Buoyed by his curiosity, I give him a little wave, smiling invitingly, and he actually twists around to see if I'm waving at someone else behind him. When he realises I'm not and that the greeting is meant for him, he stares at me and this time, doesn't turn away. He has that half-frown again, as if he's concentrating or seriously thinking, and he is gazing intently at me; not at my legs or boobs like most other guys would but at my face, as though he's trying to memorise it and imprint it on his mind. The contact lenses he's wearing gleam greenly in the dimness of the club, like the gaze of a nocturnal creature. They must have some kind of reflective coating on them specifically for use at nightclubs where there are ultraviolet lights. I wonder what colour his eyes really are under those. Judging by the paleness of his complexion, I'd guess a light blue. His short, brushed-back hair is such a curiously uncommon colour too; not the same dull grey as elderly people but a vibrantly shining steel-silver. But like the lenses, it's probably fake as well, probably dyed for the purposes of whatever costumes he and his two brothers have got on. I'll have to ask who they're meant to be because if they are portraying characters from a video game or movie, I don't recognise them.

"C'mon. Let's really give him something to stare at," Shandi coerces with a cheeky grin, slipping off her stool and tugging me from mine. Starting to grin myself, I let her lead me through the maze of plants and columns and onto the dance floor. The purple drinks I've had might look girly and weak but they're sufficiently potent for my inhibitions to have slipped somewhat, enough at least to get up in front of all these people and attempt to shake my booty. We're not the only ones under the mirror ball, though, and we join a writhing sea of other girls and guys, blending into the enthusiastic clubbers and strippers already getting their groove on, couples and threesomes of every gender combination all around us, bumping and humping to the pounding bass line issuing in stereo from towering audio speakers located to the left and right of the designated DJ area. Standing right in the middle of the deafening, high-decibel volume is like somebody punching my solar plexus repeatedly from the inside. Out here you can FEEL the music, in every way. Though I enjoy dancing, I'd prefer to blend even further into the crowd like I usually do so nobody can tell I'm hopelessly uncoordinated but Shandi keeps us to the edge of the parquetry flooring, right in the big dude's field of vision. It doesn't matter that I'm not a good dancer because Shandi is and she takes the lead, sidling up to me and moving her supple bronze figure in an undulating manner, grinning at me and encouraging me to do as she does. I don't know if it's the alcohol or the fact that a hot guy is watching me but I discover myself actively following Shandi's movements and it's easier than I thought, my body flowing with the rhythm of hers, in time with the beat of the funk-house tune that's currently playing. We aren't actually touching but one of her legs is situated between mine and when she rolls her hips in a suggestive style, the crotch-seam of her shorts almost touches my thigh. Normally, that would make me mega-uncomfortable, having someone I'm not dating so up-close and personal, but she's not hitting on me or trying to get in my skirt; we're just doing this for novelty value.

Catching my saucy roommate's devilish mood I smile like I have a juicy secret, sliding my palms down my sides and then under the front of my top, lifting it up just enough to reveal my navel piercing; an amethyst star-jewel dangling from a sterling silver chain. Proving what a shameless exhibitionist she is, Shandi performs some crude, dirty-dance moves, dropping into a thigh-spreading crouch and making girl-on-top motions with her pelvis while throwing her head from side to side right in front of me, her black dreadlocks flicking over her bare brown shoulders. Her playful display inspires me to even greater levels of naughtiness and I copy her hip-action, miming the motions as though I'm slowly thrusting into her face. We both turn at the same time to check leather-dude's reaction, Shandi and I laughing wickedly at each other when we see his jaw unhinging with disbelief. I'm sure his is not the only jawbone we've managed to drop with our raunchy girl/girl performance but I'm not concerned about who else is ogling me and the fact that I'm pleasantly intoxicated isn't the sole reason. I'm mainly in high spirits because not that long ago I used to be overweight, dumpy and unhappy and with the way this guy is looking at me now I finally feel thin, sexy and attractive again. Knowing that we've achieved our objective, Shandi stands up, leans in to wish me good luck, winks at me and gravitates over to a curvy little brunette in a red dress, leaving me dancing by myself.

Or not so much by myself, since Mr. Muscles remains seated there at the bar observing me, still keenly paying attention even though I'm not grinding with a lesbian anymore. Due to the cocktails in my system I'm feeling fun, flirty and a lot less self-conscious than I typically am so I turn around and dance for him. Nobody else, just for him, raising my hands above my head and twirling my hips in a deliberate figure-eight motion, like I learnt in belly-dance class. That's partly how I lost the weight, doing those classes four or five times a week, and I put my knowledge and expertise of the exotically ancient art form to good use, rolling my lower body as if I've got bells strung around my waist and am making them jingle. It's not so much vulgar as the way I was dancing before, but more sensual and mysterious, more enticingly beguiling, the intricate hand and hip movements like a gypsy luring her lover closer under the moonlight. The sombre hulk perched on the bar stool continues to study me, appreciating the effort I'm going to for his entertainment, a hungry kind of look darkening his handsomely intent features, giving me a heady thrill.

I have him so hooked on me right now. He wants me. I'm sure of it. If I keep this up, he's gonna be mine by the end of tonight.

All damn mine.

I'm too busy playing seductress and showing off my newly-trim figure that I don't sense the person behind me and smack straight into them, knocking the drink out of their hand and almost knocking them over, and myself, in the process.

"Shit! I'm so, so sorry," I apologise to a young man with bright red hair gathered in a long ponytail down his back. "I'm so unco! I didn't even see you there."

"It's cool, lady. No sweat," he breezes in a laid-back manner. He distractedly brushes drops of liquid off the front of his suit jacket and then suddenly notices what I'm wearing, lifting his chin and angling his head in a curious, cat-like way, gazing at me with half-lidded sky-blue eyes that are almost as pretty as Yazoo's. He whistles appreciatively as he takes in the sight of my dominatrix-boots.

"Nice. Hey, what time're you on stage?"

"Never. I'm not a dancer. If I was, don't you think I'd be better at it?" I mutter ruefully. Feeling dreadful for soaking his jacket, I reach into the pocket of my mini-skirt and thrust a crumpled bill of money at him. "Here, take this. Buy yourself another drink. Please."

I'm offering him enough for five drinks and his face lights up as he realises it.

"Thanks, sweetheart." He plucks the cash from my hand and grins roguishly as he stuffs it into his loose black pants. "You can bump into me anytime, yo."

There are scarlet crescent-shaped tattoos on both cheeks, rings in his ears and a pair of goggles sitting fashionably on his forehead. His hair is sticking up in trendy spikes at the top, the eye-catching colour like hot coals or flickering flames. He's cute. Very, very cute, and if I wasn't already interested in the buff, role-playing silverback whose name I don't know yet, I'd probably stay and chat a while with this other kid. However, I'm not going to do that. I get the feeling this blue-eyed babe is a bit of a player and a jester and from past experiences, those kinds of guys are a pain in the posterior to deal with. They never take anything seriously. Besides, I've already locked onto my target for the night and when I set my mind on pursuing somebody, to hell with everyone else, no matter how foxy.

Since I don't respond to his not-so-sophisticated flirting, the redhead shrugs carelessly and ambles away to join a bald man in sunglasses at the far end of the bar, evidently eager to spend my money as soon as possible. Satisfied that I've made amends for my social ineptness, I turn around to find the pixie-haired hunk still watching me. I make a face of despairing embarrassment that he witnessed the whole incident and a grin starts to tug at his lips before he bashfully ducks his head and pretends to be engrossed in his drink once again. This guy? So not a player. I can tell that without even talking to him. His reluctance to sustain eye contact suggests a lack of confidence with women and the way he's got his back turned to the crowd implies that he doesn't really care about who's in the club because he's not here to hook up with anyone or even look at the strippers. It's like he's only here because his brothers wanted to come and he's just passing time until they decide to leave.

I move away from the dance floor and lean against a marble column, thoughtfully tapping my thumbnail against my front teeth as I watch this mystery-man from the shadows. The more I observe him, the more intrigued I get. He's slumped on the backless bar stool with his elbows resting on the polished wooden bench, gloved fingers curled around the glass in front of him, gazing inattentively into the tawny liquid as if his mind is a million miles away from this noisy, smoky place. To both sides of him are empty seats, nobody game enough to right sit next to him, not with the body language he's displaying. He appears closed-off and hostile, his stance wordlessly warning everyone that he's not approachable yet at the same time he looks kind of lonely and lost, especially when his wide shoulders heave in a despondent sigh. Most of the other women in the club seem to be fixated with Yazoo and Kadaj, and quite understandably too since they are the most alluring individuals in here, but for some reason I'm drawn to this big, broody loner.

Weighing up my options, I debate whether I should go talk to him or whether that will come across as too forward and pushy. He's interested in me. He likes me. I know that much. But will he like me coming right up and talking to him? Hard to say. I could return to my seat at the bar and spend all night giving him coy looks and smiles until he comes over to speak to me but life's too short to sit back and be passive. In general, I've found that men aren't too bright when it comes to us girls and often miss the signals and hints we give them, even if they're huge frickin' obvious ones and if I hang around waiting for this dude to make the first move it might never happen. And then I'll never get laid.

Screw that letting-the-man-take-the-lead shit. I'm goin' over there.

Having made the resolution, I tug my skirt down so it's not riding too high up my thighs and take a fortifying breath, heading across to the bar and its intriguing silver-headed resident. A couple of drunken morons clutching beer bottles in their sweaty hands try to start conversations with me as I go past but I find slurring and dribbling quite the turn-off so I take no notice of them and continue walking in a set line. I briefly turn back to glance at Shandi but she's occupied dancing with the girl in the red dress, getting a lot closer and a lot dirtier with her than she did with me. I'm on my own here and it's been years since I've chatted up a guy so I'm kinda nervous about it but I'm sure I can handle this. I can do this. It's as easy as opening your mouth and saying…

"Hi."

Sideburns looks up to see me beside him and his face registers surprise for just a second before he settles back into a scowl. Instead of a returning greeting, he just grunts and turns back to his drink. He seemed to be extremely into me when I was shaking my hips on the dance floor but now that I'm right here next to him, it's almost like he wants me to go away and I'm bemused by his abrupt change of attitude.

"I said, hi," I attempt again cheerfully, parking myself on the vacant stool to his right. "You could try saying it back. You can speak, right?"

"I don't want it," he snaps, turning around and glaring at me with startling intensity. "So you may as well save your breath."

"Um…you don't want what?" I enquire, starting to get very confused here.

"Whatever you're selling. Not that you ain't cute but I'm not in the mood for a lap dance or a private dance or any other kind of dance," he states, his baritone voice edged with irritation. "I just want to sit here and drink, okay?"

"Dammit. That's the third time tonight." I look down at myself and grimace. "I told Shandi these look like hooker-boots but she was all like, no, they look great! I knew I shouldn't have listened to her, that lying cow."

"Shandi?"

"My roommate." I nod towards the coppery-skinned girl with gazelle-like legs laughing and chatting amongst a group of other ladies, including the red-dressed one with the dark hair. "Coming here was her idea. So was this whole outfit I'm wearing."

The scowl starts to falter a little. "So, you're not a dancer?"

"Gods, no. Couldn't you tell?" I squirm in the seat, still humiliated about my clumsy mid-floor collision. "I've never been to this place before in my life. Shandi told me I'd like it here but I think she just wanted to look at the chicks. She digs chicks," I add unnecessarily, the fact fairly obvious to any onlookers since she's openly flirting with a couple of them.

"But you don't?" he queries slowly, the savage scowling almost gone now.

"Not in that way, no. Me and her dancing together? That was just for fun. For your benefit, actually," I divulge with an embarrassed shrug. "When it comes to chromosomes I like mine of the XY variety."

His brows pinch in a perplexed frown. "Whassat mean?"

I try not to smile at his naiveté. "It means I like boys."

"Boys. Right. Of course you do," he mutters in a monotone. His face turns blank and expressionless as he stares dully down at the ice floating in his golden-coloured beverage. "If you're here to get info on my brothers, piss off and go ask them yourself. I ain't their friggin' pimp."

With an almost audible click in my head, I finally understand why he's acting so rude and unfriendly. He must have girls coming up to him constantly, asking tons of questions about Kadaj and Yazoo, requesting their phone numbers or wanting him to pass on theirs. Dealing with that every time he goes out somewhere would really suck. He must feel so ignored and rejected, being approached time after time by bitches in heat who only want to use him as a source of information for his two slenderer, prettier siblings.

Fortunately for him, I'm not one of those bitches.

"I didn't come here to talk about your brothers," I tell him. "I came to talk to you."

He looks back up in plain disbelief and doubt. "Oh, yeah? Which one of them sent you? Him?" He motions to the willowy one with the long hair who is standing against the left wall of the club, quietly surveying the whole room and everyone in it, as if scouting for danger.

"Or was it him?" He shoots a glare at his smaller sibling's back as he's reaching up to a large-breasted strawberry blonde posing on a podium, stuffing money down her thong. "I bet it was Kadaj. I HATE it when he does this."

"Nobody sent me. I'm a grown girl and make all my own decisions." I crease my forehead in perplexity. "Why is it so hard to believe that somebody is interested in you?"

"Cause it never happens." His voice is as flat and lifeless as two-week old road kill.

"Well, prepare to be shocked because it's happening right now," I inform him with glee. "I'm Cate. With a 'C'. Short for Catalina. I was named after my grandmother but nobody ever calls me that. Just Cate." I grin at him, the alcoholic beverages I've consumed loosening my tongue and making me a lot less tactful than usual. "You've got a great ass, by the way."

He gapes at me mutely, like he's forgotten how to talk.

"This is the part where you tell me your name," I remind him expectantly.

"Uh…Loz," he eventually reveals. "With an 'L'. Short for Loz."

I smile at his droll attempt at a joke. "Ah, so there IS a sense of humour lurking underneath that gloomy exterior. Well, it's nice to meet you, Loz."

I stick out my hand, hoping I don't have to prompt him into taking it. It's not necessary because he recalls what to do next and fumblingly but courteously peels off his left glove. As he goes to take my offer he notices that I'm right-handed and he's not so he hurriedly removes the other one, dropping both articles of leather on the bar next to his drink before finally enclosing my awaiting hand with his. And what a huge paw it is too, his long, strong fingers dwarfing my petite ones and squeezing so hard I feel something pop. Also feeling it, he quickly lets go and cringes, as if only remembering his strength.

"Whoa," I comment, gingerly retrieving my hand. "Some grip you got there, dude."

"Sorry." He looks down with a worried expression. "Did I break sumthin'?"

"Just cracked a knuckle. It's nothing." I smile, flexing my fingers to prove they're unbroken and he visibly relaxes.

"So, Loz with an 'L'. Are you and your brothers gamers? Do you role-play?"

"No," he replies, sounding puzzled. "Why?"

Glancing at his buckled and zippered suit, I venture, "You mean you dress like this all the time?"

"Pretty much." He peers uneasily down at himself. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," I hasten to assure him. "You look awesome. It's just that you don't normally see three dudes walking about in matching black…Oh. Ohh, I'm such an idiot." I make an eye-roll at myself.

"Those massive machines parked down the road are yours, aren't they? You're bikers. That totally explains the head-to-toe leather."

"Yeah," he says slowly. "Yeah, we're…uh…bikers."

"I hope I didn't insult you. I really didn't mean to," I apologise with a squeeze to his concrete-firm forearm. "I've never been the brightest flower in the bunch. Please don't send all your gang members to hunt me down or anything."

"It's okay," he returns in a mumble, seeming baffled as to why I'm still talking to him. "But there are no other members. Just me and my two bros. That's it."

"What are you called?"

"Who?"

"Your gang," I clarify. "All biker gangs have a name. Like, the Black Skull Bandits or the Silver Foxes or something. You got one?"

"No. We don't have a name." He pauses musingly. "Starting to think we should, though. That'd be cool. I'm gonna ask Kadaj if we can get one."

Flicking Kadaj a curious glimpse – he's now dividing his Gil and charismatic attention between three of the dancers at once who are all lapping it up like cats and cream – I ask Loz, "Is he the leader?"

"S'pose."

"But isn't he younger than you?"

"Yeah. And a lot bossier too, which is why he got the job. I ain't leadership material. I don't have the smarts for that. Although Yaz does – plus he's a deadly force not to be messed with, but he's too quiet and easy-going to order us around." He shrugs acceptingly, like obeying his kid brother is the way it's always been and always will be.

"Wow. That's the most I've heard you say in one go," I comment teasingly. Just then a thought strikes me. "Wait, if you're not in costume, then why are you wearing lizard-eye contact lenses?"

He immediately glances away. "I'm not."

"Those are your actual eyes?" I blurt in incredulousness.

"It's a genetic thing," he mumbles shortly. "We all got 'em."

He's looking down into the glass he's holding, as if he's trying to hide his abnormal irises from me but of course now I want to check them out even more. "Can I…Would it be okay if I take a closer look?" I hesitantly ask.

He peeks at me, raising his slanted brows. It's like everything I say surprises the hell out of him.

"People usually avoid lookin' right at me," he admits. "They get freaked out."

"I'm not freaked. Incredibly intrigued, but not freaked."

He shakes his head in astonishment. "Well, look if you wanna."

"You don't mind?"

"Nope. Knock yourself out."

"Here. Move that way so I can see," I say eagerly, gesturing for him to shift his head. He tilts it one way but it's not the way I need him to go so I tentatively reach up, putting my hand under his chin and tilting it at the correct angle so the lights above the bar shine directly on his face. He doesn't push me away and lets me touch him so I take that as a positive sign that he really doesn't mind me doing this. I'm meant to be looking at his eyes but I can't help noticing how remarkably sculptured his facial bones are. He's got a jaw that seems chipped out of stone, a pair of fabulous cheekbones and a perfectly straight nose that ends in an impish little point. His mouth is wide and designed for sneering or snarling but I bet if he wanted to he could use it for much more sensual purposes. I make a mental note to discover that for myself a bit later on in the night. Now that I've moved him into position, I don't have to hold him there but I keep my fingers on his chin, shifting my thumb just to feel his skin. It's amazingly soft and smooth. Except for a couple of scimitar-shaped sidelevers he's clean-shaven although I can detect the slight roughness of stubble beginning along the line of his jaw. Being this close to him I'm surrounded by the scent of his cologne and it's distinctly masculine. He smells musky and sexy, like a man should, and I feel like burying my face into his neck just to breathe it in more, and maybe even licking him a little, but I manage to restrain my urges. For now.

This is what happens when you haven't been with anyone in over half a year.

Unaware of my naughty thoughts, he stays sitting there with his head angled patiently, trying not to blink too much as I finally focus on his unusual eyes. When I first saw them on Kadaj I was shocked and then subsequently decided they had to be fake but now that I'm gazing right into Loz's I can see for myself that they aren't lenses. They're real and utterly captivating. His long, vertical pupils are black slashes, like those of a cold-blooded creature such as a frog or alligator. When I wave my other hand over his face, they expand and contract with light and shadow, and when they're fully dilated they're almost completely round. The vivid blue and green tints in his irises merge into each other from the outside in to create a brand new colour somewhere between jade, aqua and ultramarine, like the waters of a tropical sea. They seem to glow and glitter with an inner luminescence, similar to a radioactive substance, as though I can see the very essence of life inside him, shimmering and sparkling with energy and vivacity. The overall effect is visually striking and extraordinarily beautiful.

So, I tell him that.

"Beautiful?" He glances sideways at me, keeping his head still. "You think?"

"Oh, for sure. That colour…I've never seen anything like it before. Actually, I've never seen anything like YOU before, Loz," I confess, finding him absolutely fascinating. "In fact, I'm probably gonna hang around and bug you all night."

I let go of his chin and give him a nervous grin. "Hope that's okay."

He looks astonished again. "Sure. Yeah, course it is. It's just…Girls don't normally want to be anywhere near me. I'm too scary."

"You're not scary to me," I say assuredly. "I tend to find that the biggest, toughest guys in the room usually have the softest, mushiest hearts."

He frowns at me for a moment, like he's trying to work out if I'm making fun of him but then, apparently deciding that I'm not, his expression changes into one of hopeful optimism. "You go for big guys?"

"Definitely. Big guys rock."

When he aims an unsure glance at Yazoo leaning sophisticatedly against the wall with his slim coated body and luxuriously lengthy hair, I concede, "Okay, yes, your brothers are clearly pretty but I prefer men who look like men. You know; muscles and stubble, a few rough edges. I think that's attractive." I smile admiringly up at him. "Besides, with me being so short, I feel safe with bigger guys. My ex-husband was a big dude too and every time I went somewhere with him I knew I'd be taken care of and protected."

"You were married?"

"For two years," I enlighten him. "Great guy; we just work better as friends. Not that it wasn't difficult getting divorced." I sigh. "You spend so much time with somebody, making all these plans for the future and then all of a sudden you're on your own and everything you've worked for has no reason or purpose anymore. You kind of lose all motivation and sit there in your empty house thinking, what the hell am I gonna do now?" I shake my head dismissively.

"Anyway, enough about that. It's ancient history and I'm finally enjoying life as a single gal able to do whatever I want, whenever I want without having to answer to anybody." I stop and squint inquiringly at Loz. "Hey, you don't have a wife waiting at home, do you? Or any children?"

He seems almost stunned at the query. "No. Hell no!"

"To which question?"

"Either. Both. I live with my brothers. Nobody else. I certainly ain't hitched or nothin'."

"Good. Just checking." I grin sheepishly, noting that Loz is looking a little overwhelmed by my off-topic interrogation. "Before I completely dominated the conversation, what were we talking about again?"

"Uh…I don't know…" He tails off confusedly.

"Oh yeah," I exclaim, recalling where I was going with this. "Big guys. I like how protective they are. I bet you'd be the same. Say, if we were dating and walking down the street together and some punk tried to mug us, I bet you'd kick his ass; be all heroic knight in shining leather. Am I right?"

He shrugs his massively-built shoulders, as if kicking ass is a fact of life for him. "You got it, girl. If I was around, nobody would be able to touch you. They'd be dead first."

The last part he says so nonchalantly yet so seriously, like he's actually done that before. I can't bring myself to ask if he's really killed anyone or is just speaking figuratively so instead I question, "Are you a professional fighter or something? Like a boxer? You sure got the body for it."

"Nah, it's just something I do to keep fit. My brothers too. We all train with each other; kickboxing, martial arts, weapons. That kind of stuff."

"Weapons? Oh, like the ones you had to hand over to the bouncer." I cast a look across the room at Kadaj's empty sheath. "Your little brother's sword is wicked."

Loz snorts and takes a swallow of his drink. "Yeah, everybody likes the damned sword."

"What was that thing you had on your arm before? What does that do?"

"It's called Dual Hound. It's an electronic stun unit. Titanium casing, self-recharging lithium power source, 50,000 volts of pure juice," he offers proudly, showing off his weaponry knowledge. "Doesn't look as cool as Kadaj's Souba but it sure packs an awesome punch."

Peering at the holster on his thigh, also empty, I mention, "You have a gun too. Like Yazoo's."

"Velvet Nightmare. It's got an inbuilt knife blade. Anyone tries to grab it off you, they lose their fingers."

"Ouch." I wince. "So, why do you get two weapons and the others don't?"

"Dual Hound can't discharge over distances. It only works in direct physical contact with your opponent. Eh, I prefer that anyway." He gives a casual shoulder-lift. "Hand to hand combat is more my thing."

I nod knowingly. "You're the brute force."

"Whadda you mean?"

"There's always one in every gang – the hard hitter," I explicate. "You said Kadaj is the boss and Yazoo is the silent, lethal one so you must be the blunt instrument. You're the type that talks best with your fists. Don't you?"

"I guess," he replies with another lift of his shoulder, not offended by my summary. "Somebody's gotta do the hittin'."

Speaking of hittin', I think to myself…

"So, biker boy. You gonna buy me a drink or what?" I suggest flirtatiously.

He looks narrowly at me, like he's trying to decipher what my motives are. "You…want me to?"

"Why do you question everything I say?" I tease. "Have you never bought a girl a drink before?"

"Sure. Lotsa times," he quickly returns but I get the feeling he's fibbing. "Yo, dude. Over here." He signals porcupine-guy and tells him to get me another one of whatever I'm drinking and a whiskey on the rocks. A real man's drink. As the cute blue-headed bartender hands over my cocktail, I smile my thanks and glance at him, noting that his violet eyes somehow don't seem so magical anymore, not now that I've looked into Loz's glittering jade-aquamarine ones. I don't think I'll ever see eyes any more magical and wondrous than these.

These eyes are the ones I'll be gazing into later when we're alone together.

You can be damn sure of that….

***

TBC…


	4. Not Without Permission

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading this! Especially Psycho Babble. Hope you enjoy this chapter as it showcases Loz's kewl kick-ass aggressive side (which we all go completely weak and fangirly for /sigh/). ^__^

***

Part 4.

"What is that?" Loz asks, interestedly motioning to the high-ball glass I'm swirling a straw into, mixing up the red and blue layers of liqueur and crushed ice into one deep indigo colour.

"Berry Horny. It's a ladies' cocktail," I enlighten him. "Very sweet. You probably wouldn't like it."

"It looks kinda nice," he offers.

"You wanna try some?"

He nods. "'Kay."

I pass the drink over and he holds the tall, narrow glass carefully in his large hand, making sure he doesn't unintentionally break it. He sniffs the colourful concoction, has a taste, swallows and then shudders. "Ugh. It's like straight sugar."

"Told you," I say with a smirk, secretly pleased that he didn't mind sucking on the straw after me. Means he's not fussy about germs and that means I got a good chance of getting him to kiss me later.

He gladly returns the drink to me and I also prove I'm not germ-phobic by putting my lips where his just were and sipping, running my tongue around the tip of the straw to finish, hoping he gets my less-than-subtle hint. He might not be the brainiest guy I've ever met but he certainly doesn't miss that, his ultramarine eyes dropping to my mouth and staying there. He only glances up when I say his name for the second time, having not heard the first one.

"Whuh?" He seems a little zoned out and spacey and I smile to myself, knowing my straw tactic worked the way it was supposed to. My hook is digging deeper and deeper into this big, handsome fish.

"I said, I hate asking this because it sounds so lame but I'm genuinely curious. What do you do?"

He frowns a little. "Do?"

"Apart from being a kickboxing biker. Your day job. How do you pay for those expensive outfits of yours?" I eye off his tailored jacket and pants combo. "Leather suits don't come cheap these days."

He debates his response for a while, eventually revealing with some reluctance, "Me and my bros, we're kind of uh…debt collectors."

It's my turn to frown now. "Debt collectors?"

"Yeah. Like, if people owe money, we get it out of them."

Beginning to sense something a little off, I say cautiously, "Get it out of them how?"

Now that I've shown interest in his job he talks more freely, explaining, "Well, sometimes we gotta intimidate people to make 'em cough up; you know, threaten them, slap them around a bit. Kadaj is good with persuasive techniques. If it's information we're after, he can make anyone talk in ten minutes flat."

My eyebrows zoom up. "You torture people?"

"We do whatever we're paid to do. If anybody don't co-operate or give us what we came for, they end up in a body bag." Shrugging his shoulders, he finishes with a nonchalant, "Or in pieces."

Thinking of Kadaj's deadly twin-blade sword and Yazoo's equally-deadly gun, I gasp, "Oh my Gods. You're assassins! You're professional killers, aren't you?"

"Not always," he protests. "Occasionally we actually protect people; be some rich dude's security guards or whatever. Anyway, if we do have to erase someone, it's usually Yazoo who takes them down." His voice swells with sibling pride. "He can shoot a guy in the head from four blocks away, without them ever feeling a thing."

I stare at him in shock. "How can you do that…kill people and not feel bad?"

"The way I figure it is, if someone is willing to pay us a bucket load of cash to wipe you out, then you musta done something to deserve it," he states unsympathetically. "These people… They're nothin' but scum. The planet is better off with them gone."

His words actually make a strange sort of sense, not that I condone cold-blooded murder for monetary gain. Him and his brothers being hit men…that explains so much; the clothes, the bikes, the weapons, the dangerously seductive and fearless vibe they all exude. They act like they're untouchable, unbeatable and invincible. For all I know they probably are. You don't get to be an assassin by being weak and powerless. These guys have power. All of them. You can tell just by looking at the way they walk, move and carry themselves. They're not scared of anything. They are used to destroying, defeating and owning and I sincerely doubt that there's a single individual in this club who could take them on in a fight and win.

Still staring at him, I ask Loz, "Have you ever ended anyone's life yourself?"

"Yes," he bluntly replies, looking me straight in the eye. "But it's just a job. I ain't like that all the time so you don't need to be frightened of me. I'd never hurt you." He glances away in unexpected shyness, his tone softening.

"I'd never hurt anyone I cared about."

Even though every thing he's saying should make me inclined to bolt in the other direction and never come back, the open honesty that Loz is showing somehow makes me trust him and I accept his words of safety as the truth. He may be the width of an incoming train and would flatten you just as easily but under all that muscle mass I glimpse a great gentleness that conflicts with his violent choice of career. I sense a deep well of affection inside him, one he rarely reveals or gives away, but if he were with the right person I think he'd give all of it, and all of his heart, proving to be a fiercely loyal, committed and protective partner and lover.

If you didn't mind him coming home with blood on his gloves every now and again.

It spins me out big-time knowing what his occupation is but curiously, I'm not afraid. As he said; it's just a job. Somebody's gotta do it, I suppose. And there are far worse and much less interesting jobs he could have chosen. Like, being a delivery boy or something. I gotta admit, being employed as a hired gun actually sounds like all kinds of awesomeness. It's bad, dangerous and totally kick-ass, like something you only see in action movies. But Loz isn't an unreal action character on a big screen. He's an actual person and I'm sitting right next to him, so close I can smell the leather of his suit.

Trying to comprehend how utterly surreal this whole situation is, I mutter, "I can't believe I'm drinking with a hit man. What a fucking head-trip."

For the first time Loz starts to appear guilty but it's not for the reason one might think.

"Shit. I probably shouldn't have told you all this," he says in dismay, realising what he's let slip and beginning to panic about it. "Don't tell Kadaj. Please! He'll be really mad at me and I don't like him when he's mad."

"Oh, there's no way I'm ever talking to him now I know what he specialises in," I declare in dread. "See, you don't scare me. HE does."

"You're not gonna tell anybody? What I said?"

Seeing how stressed and anxious Loz is getting, I shake my head. "It's all right. I'll keep your secret. But only if you buy me another drink." I gulp down the rest of my Berry Horny and push the glass across the counter, adding, "Hell, after what I just learnt, you better make that two."

He looks immensely thankful at my assurance of confidentiality. "Sure thing, girly. Whatever you want." He calls over the second guy behind the bar, the one with the crew cut, replenishing our glasses.

Taking a swallow of his whiskey, Loz announces, "I told you what I do. Your turn now, Cate."

Hearing my name in that deep sexy voice for the first time gives me a tremendous thrill, though I try hard not to let it show.

"My story? Not so exciting," I confess. "I mean, I'm hardly a super-stealthy sniper or anything…"

"Tell me." Loz rests his elbow on the bar and looks at me, his green gaze alert and interested. "I wanna know."

I sigh, relenting to his request. "This sounds like such a sucky girl-job but if you must know, I'm a florist."

Uncertainly, he ventures, "You mean, the sort that works with flowers?"

"There is no other sort," I inform him with amusement, wondering what year he dropped out of high school. "Yes, I work with flowers. I do wedding bouquets and casket arrangements for funerals. That kind of thing."

"You actually touch them?" he exclaims in repulsion.

"Kinda have to," I reply with a grin, finding him more and more hilarious with each passing second.

"With your hands?"

"With my hands."

He wrinkles his pointy nose, looking nauseous. "Gross."

I can't help it. I burst out laughing.

"What?" he asks, looking confused by my mirth.

"You can stand there and watch a guy get chopped into human sushi but the thought of touching a rose disgusts you?"

"Well, yeah," he rebounds seriously, as if this is a perfectly normal reaction.

Shaking my head, I remark, "Loz…You're strange." Before he gets offended, I adjoin, "In a very cool way."

He has that unbelieving 'Is-she-kidding-me?' look again and I smile at him to let him know I mean it, in spite of all the shocking things that he's told me about himself and what he does.

"You're pretty cool too. For a girl," he confides timidly, quickly focusing back on his drink, as if afraid he might blush in front of me or something. He's so frickin' adorable. Like a teenage boy on his first date. Hard to believe he beats people up for a living. Then again, so do security guards and bouncers…

Still smiling at his endearing cuteness, I let my gaze wander out over the dance floor, spotting my roomie Shandi dancing and flirting with another girl now, having the time of her life and completely forgetting about me, even though she's the one who brought me here to begin with. It's okay, though. I'm not alone. I got somebody keeping me company and it's damn good company too. I turn back to the off-duty assassin on the bar stool next to me, discovering him admiring my leg, his lusty gaze wandering over my knee and exposed thigh above the top of the buckled boot.

He glances up with shame in his face, knowing he's been sprung. "Sorry. I wasn't…uh…"

"It's okay. Wearing this skanky shit is bound to draw attention," I tell him uncomfortably, trying to tug the skirt down more. "I don't normally dress this way. My wardrobe is mainly made up of t-shirts and jeans, most of them ripped or patched. Unfortunately, Shandi forced me to try something a little more…well, I'd call it sluttier but she'd probably say girlier and more feminine."

I make an unconvinced expression. "Do I look feminine? I feel kind of like a cheap tart."

"You don't look like one. You look nice," Loz abashedly assures me. "Real nice."

"If you saw me in my usual gear you probably wouldn't say that. You'd probably think I was a homeless boy," I return dryly.

"No, I wouldn't. You'd look great in anything. It's not clothes that make you beautiful; it's who you already are." He says it with such innocently genuine earnestness that it makes my heart melt into a puddle of pink slush.

"And I thought there weren't any romantic guys left in the world." Grinning at him, I ask, "Wanna dance? I promise I won't ditch you for a lesbian."

Squirming awkwardly in his seat, he admits, "I don't dance. Ever. I ain't any good at it."

"So don't. Just come out and hang with me. I'm afraid that if I leave you alone at the bar some other wench will steal you away."

"Not likely," he says in a mutter.

"C'mon. Don't make me go out there by myself, Loz," I urge, getting off my bar stool and holding out my hand to him. "Someone else will think I'm a stripper and try to jam money down my butt-crack or slurp a jelly-shot off my tits. If that happens I'm holding you responsible. Do you really want that on your conscience?"

I guess he doesn't. Sighing heavily, he drains his drink, puts the empty glass on the bench and stands up, stuffing his gloves into a pocket of his jacket.

"Whoa…tall…" I stammer, gazing up in awe at his towering height as he straightens before me. My head only comes up to his chest, which is magnificently wide and muscled, the open zipper right at my eye-level, letting me take a real close look at his white marble-like flesh. Having all that broad hardness in front of my face is mesmerising and I wonder to myself what he'd do if I leant in and licked it, right in that crevice running down the middle of his pecs.

"Are we dancin' or what?" he prompts, forcing me to quit gawping at his chest like some sex-starved nympho.

"Yes. Well, /I/ am anyway. If you want to stand there like a statue that's your choice, buddy, but you're still coming with me," I return, tugging on his hand.

As I'm taking him away from his safe location at the bar and into more unfamiliar territory, he grumbles, "I don't even know why I'm doin' this."

"Because you can't resist a cute chick in boots, that's why," I quip, leading him through the throng of bodies in the club and towards the wooden dance floor.

I notice he doesn't object to my statement.

We are walking through a group of guys when I notice one leering at me. He's got on a western hat, a barbeque-plate sized shiny belt buckle and a checked shirt, like he thinks he's a horse wrangler or something even though he's probably never sat on one in his life. I roll my eyes in distaste. As I pass him by I feel a hand on my right buttock, squeezing. I gasp and whirl around. Loz stops.

"What?"

"That guy just grabbed my ass!" I exclaim in outrage.

His jaw instantly hardening, he narrows his eyes at the gang of buddies we passed through. "Which guy?" he grits out.

By the low, aggressive timbre of Loz's voice I know this is only going to end violently however I still point to the offending male loitering in the centre of the group. He's got his back to us, pretending that he didn't just grope me without asking but I damn well know it was him. "That one. The cock-sucking cowboy."

Face set hard like a stone carving, Loz storms over there in two large strides. He grabs the male I identified by the shoulder, forcibly making him turn around. The guy stumbles in his spur-heeled boots. He looks annoyed.

"Hey! What the hell, dawg?"

In a strangely calm and quiet tone, Loz asks, "Did she give you permission to touch her?"

Cowboy puts on a dumb act. "Who? What are you talkin' about, hombre?"

Loz jabs his thumb over his shoulder, motioning to me. "Her. You touched her," he repeats patiently. "Did she give you permission?"

"Listen dude, I never…" the guy starts to say but Loz suddenly snaps out his calmness, snatching a fistful of shirt-front and roughly reefing the cowboy clear off the ground, holding him up with one massive, muscular arm.

"I SAID, DID SHE?" he roars furiously.

Gasping, I cover my mouth with both hands. If this was a scene from a film the music would grind to a halt, everyone would stop dancing and the whole club would come to a standstill to watch the drama. But this isn't a movie so the music keeps playing and people keep dancing. In fact, the only people witnessing this are the ones in the immediate vicinity, including cowboy's pals, who are doing exactly nothing to help him, looking just as stunned as he is right now.

His legs dangling like a puppet's, the hat-wearing guy stares down at Loz in panicked alarm, clawing at his arm in an attempt to pry himself loose. It doesn't work.

"Shit!" he squeaks in terror. "No, man! Leggo of me!"

"NO WHAT?!"

"No, she didn't give me permission!" Cowboy wheezes, the collar of his stupid shirt tightening around his neck as he's struggling uselessly in Loz's iron grasp.

"Apologise to her," Loz growls threateningly, the volume of his voice lowered but no less menacing. The captive male glances to me, his frantic eyes bulging out of his head. He takes too long to answer and Loz gives him a brutal jerk, the dude's wide-brimmed hat falling off and sailing to the floor.

"APOLOGISE, ASSHOLE!" Loz bellows, jerking him again, the guy's head viciously snapping back and probably giving him whiplash.

The urban cowboy gulps, the colour rapidly draining from his face, looking as though he's going to pass out any second now. Either that or piss himself with fright. "Sorry! I'm sorry!" he gabbles hysterically. "I'm fucking sorry, okay?!"

Glowering at the man he's effortlessly lifting with only one arm, Loz finally replies in a snarl, "So you should be. Keep your Godsdamn hands to yourself from now on or I'll break off every single one of your fingers and shove them right up your ass."

And with that final threat, Loz opens his fist and lets the guy go, the other male dropping down a few feet to the ground in a wheezing, terrified heap.

Curling his lip, Loz gives a disgusted, "Humph," before turning and crossing back to me. As he returns, I gaze up at his huge, still-bristling figure with my mouth half-open, not sure how to feel by that display – intimidated or impressed. I think I'm feeling a bit of both, maybe more of the latter. Nobody has ever rushed to my defence so swiftly and savagely before. I've never had a guy get so aggressively protective of me the way Loz just did, as though he's my personal minder and his sole mission in life is to make sure no-one lays a hand on me and gets away with it. He wasn't kidding when he said nobody would be able be hurt me if he was around. That guy is lucky Loz didn't snap his weedy neck and assassinate him on the spot.

Yeah. I'm definitely impressed.

"You all right?" he inquires, beginning to look less savage and more concerned.

I nod mutely.

"Sorry 'bout that," he mumbles awkwardly, realising how dramatically he reacted to the situation. "Was that over the top? Was it too much? It was, wasn't it?"

I swallow my shock, understanding that he could have done a lot of permanent, irreversible damage to that guy but for some reason didn't. All he really did was frighten the fuck out of the dude. And everyone else watching. He freaked them all out and let them know in no uncertain terms that he's got a claim on me – that I belong to him - and from this point on, none of those guys will dare to touch me or even look at me for fear of being grabbed and yelled at like that.

"No," I reply at last. "No, Loz, I think you did just enough."

He sighs deeply, his shoulders slumping. "I guess you don't wanna be around me anymore, huh?"

I frown at him. "Why would you think that?"

"Cause you saw me get angry." He glances down unhappily. "I know I'm scary when I'm angry."

"Hey. I told you that you weren't scary to me. Besides, your anger was justified," I point out. "You were protecting me. If anything, that makes me want to be with you MORE."

He looks back up, hardly daring to believe it. "You serious? I don't scare you at all?"

"If you did, do you think I'd still be standing here talking to you?" To prove it, I reach down and take his hand again. "C'mon. You're not getting out of dancing with me that easily, tough guy. Let's go."

Still blinking in bewilderment, he follows me onto the dance floor. Saving him, and myself, the embarrassment of staying on the fringe of the area where everyone can see us - like Shandi made me do before – I shove right into the centre of the swelling cluster of clubbers, surrounded by not only them but the liver-pulverising beat being thumped at us out of the DJ booth. Once securely camouflaged by the crowd, I start moving to the music – some electro-trance track I've never heard but am liking more and more as it goes on, the melody catchy and the bass rumbling like thunder just the way I prefer, lifting my spirits and sending my endorphins surging. Forget drugs; sometimes I can just get high on music. Utterly out of his comfort zone, Loz stands there looking useless, like he thinks everybody is pointing and laughing at him. But they're not. They're too busy trying to hook up with their own dance partners to care about a clearly self-conscious big dude dressed in black. They didn't see him haul that guy up by the front of his shirt and they're not paying attention to him now. I can understand how Loz feels, though. Scaring people is something he's good at. Dancing, plainly, is not. Attempting to get his mind off his own awkwardness, I take Loz's hands and put them on my hips - non-verbally permitting him to touch - so he can feel me move and after a while he forgets about everyone else and just watches me. Remembering how he nearly crushed my hand earlier with his overzealous grip, he holds me in front of him carefully, almost delicately, as if he doesn't want to bruise me, and yet again I'm struck by this surprising streak of gentleness he has under that gruff appearance.

While he's cradling my hips, I sway them just for him as I was doing earlier, smiling affectionately at my taller companion. Wanting to get a little closer to him I slide my palms up his arms, from wrist to bicep, feeling how awesomely pumped he is through the taut leather sleeves of his jacket. He must work out in the gym every single day to look like this. I give no notice to anybody else around me, just to Loz, marvelling once more at how astonishingly fine-looking he is. His body is all male but his facial features are nearly feminine in design and the only things that separate his face from Yazoo's or Kadaj's very similar ones are the masculine broadness of his jaw and mouth as well as the twin stripes of silver whiskers curving towards the corners of his lips. That and the seriously intense expression he adopts that makes him look like he's frowning or scowling, even when he's not. He's doing that expression right now and though it may unnerve a lot of people it doesn't have that effect on me. Rather, the opposite. I'm starting to recognise that look as something very different. Something very much like hunger, need, longing and desire all rolled into one. Knowing that he feels that way about me thrills me even more than hearing him say my name. Not that I don't want to hear that again – only hopefully it will be accompanied by a moan next time.

Oh, yes. I'm still thinking about getting laid. Counting on it, actually.

After dressing up like a hooker and putting all this makeup on my face I'd be quite disappointed in myself if I went to bed alone tonight. I've made an effort to get out and there and meet new guys, hoping that it will pay off for me. Now that I've met Loz and captured his full concentration it's not so much a matter of if it's gonna happen, but when. Not just yet, though. And certainly not here. Regardless of how drunk I get I'll never, ever, screw anybody in a club. But I can dance with them. Even if they won't dance back. I don't care if Loz is simply standing there, not with the possessive way he's looking at me and holding my hips with both hands. I can feel how warm his palms are through the denim fabric of my skirt and how strong his fingers are, causing me to contemplate what those fingers might feel like on other parts of my body; whether he'd be gentle or rough or somewhere in between.

All too soon the music changes, merging to a popular pop-princess tune that frankly bores the crap out of me so I groan and stop moving.

"Fuck, I hate this song. I want to stab this bitch in this eye with her own stiletto."

Looking relieved that his moment of dancing discomfort is over, Loz queries, "So, we can go back to the bar and drink now?"

"We sure can," I affirm. "You owe me a second cocktail for keeping my mouth shut, remember?"

"Yeah. I remember. Berry Horny?"

"Oh, I'm gettin' there," I grin naughtily, making his eyes widen in surprise. Surprising him even further, I get up on the tip of my toes and lift my chin, pressing a kiss to his smooth cheek, the scent of his aftershave lingering on his skin.

"Thanks for coming up here with me, big guy. I had fun." Murmuring in his ear, I end with, "Just for the record, I'd rather dance around you than a pole any day."

When I pull back to look at him, he's staring at me, as he has already frequently done tonight. But then something changes. Slowly, very slowly, a smile starts to appear, tugging his lips upwards, his eyes relaxing, causing his whole face to transform and soften. Sweet Gods, I think in amazement, as my heart skips a beat within my ribs.

When Loz smiles he's damn near pretty.

***

To be continued…soon…


	5. Protecting Brothers

Thank you Psycho Babble! I hope you (and everyone secretly reading) enjoy this chapter. :)

Part 5. Protecting brothers.

Eager to get off this packed dance floor and away from other potential ass-grabbers, Loz puts his hand on the small of my back and steers me around, back to our seats at the bar which everyone has had the common sense to leave vacant for us. Having Loz as my bodyguard/boyfriend would come with a ton of perks and advantages such as this. I'd never again have to sit in a cinema with some ignorant person's fat head blocking my view of the film because Loz would only have to snarl at them once and they'd move their butt to another chair so fast their popcorn would still be spinning in mid-air. Re-seated at the polished wood counter, we order our beverages of choice from the spiky-haired bartender (I get another dark purple one called Smack my Bitch Up) and Loz and I continue drinking and getting to know each other. I estimate that I'm up to my seventh or eighth cocktail for the evening which basically means I'm as drunk as someone of my size and stature should let themselves get. I'd better be very careful what I drink now and dilute all that alcohol with some plain water or juice otherwise I'll be puking up my dinner in the potted palms and toppling over unconscious on the cigarette-strewn carpet, completely forgoing the chance to see Loz's buffed body naked. Which ideally, I'd really like to do by the time this night is over.

Yes, I'm aware that I have sex on the brain but you can't blame a girl for thinking this way. Loz is hotter than a bunch of jalapeño chillies floating in a bowl of spicy sauce. But he's completely unassuming and unpretentious about it. It's like he doesn't even KNOW that he's hot.

I'll show him, though. Sooner than he thinks.

Now that I've finally gotten him to crack a smile by comparing his non-dancing self to a stationary stripper's pole, Loz lightens up a lot around me, his nervousness eased by the cheek-kiss I gave him, and when I start to mock the way other people are dressed and the ridiculous way some of them are dancing, he joins in, finding the human race just as fascinatingly lame as I do. As we pick on some unsuspecting specimen on the dance floor and joke about their deficient co-ordination skills or crotch-hugging yellow pants, Loz grins often, even gives a few deep chuckles that are a delight to hear. For someone whose first impression is that of humourless seriousness and solemnity, he's actually a joy to be around, with a sarcastically juvenile wit that I can definitely appreciate since I grew up with housefuls of boys.

When we tire of criticising and judging, we turn our backs on the crowd and chat about random subjects, such as our interests and hobbies, what movies or music we like, and I soon discover that apart from us being similar ages – him 24 and me 23 –we have pretty much nothing else in common whatsoever. He likes violent action-based films while I dig science fiction/fantasy stuff. I love the colour purple in all its many shades, from lilac to aubergine, and he likes black and black. I like to read for relaxation and he enjoys punching a bag until the stuffing falls out. I hate driving and prefer to walk everywhere while he drag-races his bike down the freeway with anyone who'll take him on. I listen to hypno-techno and electronica; he likes hardcore metal and death punk. I'm a vegetarian and love animals whereas he loves to eat them after they've been barbequed. I like sugar and he likes salt. He's the total opposite to me but that's what makes him so interesting; that he's so different to what I am. Despite our dissimilarities, the conversation flows easily and he seems to be just as intrigued with me as I am with him.

Mid-song, the DJ in the booth announces the name of one of the strippers and introduces the beginning of her show, as has been happening every half-hour. I idly look up as a raven-haired chick called Ebony Rose saunters onto the main stage dressed like an air hostess, her cropped white blouse straining at the buttons over a pair of impossibly inflated breasts, each one approximately the size of a baby's head.

"Holy shit," I utter as she peels her shirt off to the encouraging cheers of money-waving men. "No way are those floatation devices real."

Loz glances over at her, gives an indifferent grunt as she starts removing her bra and then looks away, focusing back on me. He's really not interested in anyone else in the club and knowing that he'd rather look at me than a half-nude exotic dancer with enormous titties does wonderful things for my self-esteem and I reward him by letting my hand rest on his knee as we're talking, feeling the warmth of his skin through the leathery membrane of his trousers. I can't resist giving his thigh a quick squeeze, discovering it to be every bit as solid as I expected. Some guys might be uncomfortable with such overly familiar contact but he doesn't seem to mind at all. In fact, he even chances to touch me back, his larger hand hesitantly hovering over mine. He's sweetly shy about it at first, like he's unused to touching girls but when he sees that I'm not going to slap him across the face or yell about sexual harassment, he gains confidence, his fingertips grazing over the back of my wrist in light, repetitive circles. For such a mountain of a man he's exceptionally gentle and it astounds me that he has such contrasting shades of light and shadow in his personality. One on side he's a ruthless killer able to crush bones with a clench of his hand and on the other he can stroke as softly as a butterfly wing.

Incredible.

You know that hook that I'm reeling him in with? Kinda think that's being reversed somehow. He's hooking ME in now and he's not even meaning to. When I came here tonight I was only supposed to find someone to get laid with but Gods, I could fall so hard for him. Possibly halfway there already, even though the ink is barely dry on my divorce certificate. I'm too merrily intoxicated to analyse what's going on between Loz and I but whatever it is, I'm loving it. To be honest, I don't want this night to end because it's fast becoming the best one I've ever had. When Shandi first suggested going to a strip club I didn't really want to go because I thought it'd suck and I'd have a terrible time but now I'm glad I came or else I wouldn't have met the gorgeous, green-eyed guy whose knee I'm caressing right now. For that reason alone I ought to send my pushy roommate a huge bouquet of fresh flowers as a thank you gift. I just better not let Loz see them. Trying to drag his heavy carcass over to the lounge after he's fainted dead away on my living room floor might be a difficult task for a small chick like me. It's completely comical how a big, rough dude such as him can suffer from something as absurd as anthrophobia. Since I'm a florist, I'm just gonna have to tease him about it sometimes because, c'mon. That shit is funny!

After more frivolous chatting and a couple more drinks, my new flower-phobic friend and future bed-partner wipes his mouth with his sleeve and announces, "I gotta go take a pi-" Remembering that I'm a girl, he speedily revises, "Um…I mean, go to the bathroom. Excuse me for a minute."

He stands up and hesitates, looking down at me with this adorably pleading face.

"Please be here when I get back, Cate. If you're not, I'm gonna cry. I seriously will."

I giggle, thinking he's joking. "I'll be waiting right here for you, handsome. Don't take too long, okay? I'll get lonely without you."

He grins at me happily and then heads off to the restrooms. Again with the naughty thoughts, I watch his imposing rear view as he walks away; admiring the strong spread of his shoulders and back as well as that perfectly firm ass, all encased in sexy black biker gear. That empty gun holster belted around his left thigh only emphasises how thickly muscled it is. I haven't failed to notice the buckled belts around each of Kadaj's thighs as well but his legs, while lean and lithe, are nowhere near as manly and impressive as Loz's. It's like comparing saplings with tree trunks. Wondering where the creepy little prick is I look around the room, not seeing Kadaj at any of the podiums or with any of the dancers. Maybe he's getting another private performance downstairs. He must have a lot of money to waste because the services of those girls would be pricey and I'm sure they don't give out freebies. Or maybe they might, for him anyway. He's the smug kind of kid that knows his own attractiveness and would use it to charm the pants off anybody he chooses simply because he /can/. I hate people like that. They always get what they want just because they're so unbelievably good-looking. Well, that arrogant act doesn't work on me, let me tell you that right now.

Catching a flash of silver out of the corner of my eye, I glance down the other end of the bar to find not Kadaj but the other, longer haired brother standing there staring at me. Yazoo. That jolt runs right through my body again. I'm not sure if it's fear, heightened physical awareness or a disturbing mix of both but it makes me sit up straighter in my seat and my pulse pound alarmingly in my veins. Like Loz, he's tall too but very slender, although his arms are powerfully-built. I guess they'd have to be in order for him to handle that ginormous gun of his. His high-necked dress-coat has a main central zipper, located under the chest-straps, and it's done all the way up to his chin. The coat falls down to his ankles, similar to a robe, and is divided with slits at the front and back for ease of movement. Under it, he wears the same trousers and calf-high boots as his brothers.

As I'm looking at him, he's looking at me, his eyes somehow softer and prettier than Loz's or Kadaj's, even though they are exactly the same colour as theirs. He's not staring at me in a hostile way, just in open inquisitiveness. He tilts his head curiously and his hair slithers over his shoulders, spilling down his back like liquid silk, the greyish hue appearing blue under the lights and making me wonder for the fiftieth time what it would be like to touch. As if he knows what I'm thinking, he smiles mysteriously and raises his wine glass to me in salutation, his leather-covered fingers curved elegantly around the stem of the goblet. Not knowing what else to do, I raise my glass and nod back, although I'm far too intimidated to smile at him. I keep picturing him aiming Velvet Nightmare at my face and calmly pulling the trigger.

Thankfully, his attention wanders, his gaze travelling onto the dance floor and away from me, allowing my heart to quit bouncing around in my ribcage like it's trying to get out and make a dash on stumpy aorta legs for the closest door. I have a sip of my cocktail and peep surreptitiously down the bar at this stunning sniper, just making certain he's not looking at me anymore. And he isn't. He's looking at something, or someone, on the other side of the room, his expression fixed and trancelike at the same time, as if whatever's over there is the most enchanting thing he's ever seen. When he blinks it seems in slow-motion. He looks dreamy, almost stoned. Probably is, for all I know. Intrigued by what he's gazing at, I follow his line of sight and start to get alarmed again because I glimpse the younger, more frightening of the trio cutting through the horde of people and heading towards the bar, his silver hair gleaming like moonlight in the darkness.

Kadaj.

Just thinking his name in my head is like a whisper of menace and danger. He sees me too but I'm greatly relieved when he ignores my presence and strolls straight up to Yazoo, every carefully-placed footstep accompanied by a seductive roll of his hip, making an ordinary act like walking seem as though it's foreplay. I've never seen a guy walk like that and as much as I want to look away, I simply cannot. He can't be any more than seventeen, eighteen years old but he acts as though he owns the world and everything in it. Substantiating my theory, he boldly takes hold of Yazoo's wine glass, plucking it right out of his older brother's hand and draining the last of the claret liquid in a few thirsty gulps, head thrown back and pale throat working as he swallows. Yazoo lets him do it, watching as Kadaj licks the rim of the goblet in an evocative motion, in exactly the same spot where Yazoo was drinking from previously. Kadaj shoves the empty glass onto the counter top and leans in to say something, his lips just about touching Yazoo's ear. They're definitely touching his hair. Kadaj's hand is resting on the taller male's lower back and whatever he's saying, it makes Yazoo chuckle amusedly.

Still smiling, Yazoo turns his face to murmur something back. Guess he's not mute after all. He must have said something witty because Kadaj laughs out loud and it's a surprisingly pleasant sound. I thought since he's the brutal, cold-hearted leader of the pack he'd have an evil, chilling laugh but it's not. It's light and playful. Kadaj acts more relaxed and affectionate with Yazoo than he has with any of the ladies he's been fraternising with, his boyish face lit with mischievous warmth as he gazes upon his black-coated brethren. Yazoo's smile is just as warm, even a little teasing. It's almost like they're flirting with each other but that can't possibly be true. First of all, they're brothers. Second of all, Kadaj seems to like women too much. Third of all, I'm fairly convinced that weapon-toting, biker assassins with such magnetic sex-appeal wouldn't be that desperate, not when either of them could have any person in the club who took their fancy, or even two or three of them at once. I'm probably just seeing everything they do with a suggestively perverted slant because, as Slutty Sara from the bathroom said, they're so effin' hot.

With all his effeminate androgyny Yazoo may very well be gay but I highly doubt they're gay for each other, though.

Yazoo speaks to his shorter sibling again and nearly instantly, Kadaj's piercing aqua eyes flick over to where I'm seated and all ideas of them having an incestuous relationship are forgotten in an abrupt flood of fright. Having Kadaj look directly at me is like getting grabbed around the throat and my heart starts that trying-to-escape thing it was doing before. He stares at me for a little while I stare back, trying to work out if I should make a run for the nearest exit or if I'd be decapitated before I even got off the stool. His sword may have been left with the bouncers but I reckon he's probably got a knife hidden on his person somewhere. And if he does, I don't want it to end up being lodged in my windpipe. With the suspicious, almost angry, way he's looking at me I feel like I've done something very wrong, even though I haven't, to the best of my knowledge.

What the hell is taking Loz so long? I wonder, desperately needing him here for my own protection. If he doesn't show up in the next two minutes his demonic little brother is going to kill me! I know it's insane but for some reason I'm dead certain Kadaj wants to wipe me off the face of the planet. Permanently.

Just as I'm about to pass out from hyperventilating he looks away, talking once again with Yazoo and disregarding me as though I don't even exist. The relief I feel is immense and leaves me light-headed and slightly queasy. I turn back to the bar, letting out a long, tremulous lungful of air. I don't know what it is about Kadaj or why I'm so irrationally afraid of him but in all honesty, I'm not sure if I want to find out. My gut instincts tell me to stay as far away from him as I can and hey, I'm not gonna argue with my gut because it's rarely mistaken.

When my breathing is under control and has returned to semi-normal once more, I swivel around to see if Loz is coming back from the bathroom yet and my newly acquired breath is sucked out of me again in a sharp, startled hiss.

Because Kadaj is standing right next to me.

I curse to myself, my hand automatically going to my rapidly-thumping heart, trying to stop it from seizing up, much like it almost did back in the corridor.

"Stop DOING that, man!" I exclaim. "You're gonna give me a heart attack materialising out of nowhere like that. Shit."

He doesn't apologise. He just gazes steadily at me with those cold crocodile eyes, eventually asking, "Are you interested in my brother?"

Thinking it's a trick question, I reply warily, "Which one?"

He smiles in exaggerated patience. "The big one who was sitting next to you, of course. Do you like Loz?"

"Yeah. So what if I do?" I lift my chin obstinately, damned if I'm going to exhibit any weakness in front of him. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Oh, it IS my business," he states flatly. "Believe me."

Starting to get prickly at his attitude, I inquire in a stiff tone, "Do you have an issue with me liking him?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you're really interested in him or are just on the prowl. Are you going to date him or do you just want that gap between your legs filled with something hard and dumb?"

I almost gasp out loud. "I beg your pardon?"

"You see, my older brother is…shall we say… childishly naïve and emotionally immature. To put it simply and crudely, he's all brawn; no brains. Among other things, he doesn't quite grasp the concept of the one night stand. He believes that if someone sleeps with him it means more than what it actually does and inevitably gets disillusioned when he discovers that the other party has no intention of pursuing the relationship further than a torrid tumble between the sheets."

Gods, he's talky. It's as though he loves to hear the sound of his own voice.

"I've seen it happen before," he carries on, "and the resulting depression Loz spirals into is unbearable to witness. As the head of this family, I will not stand by and watch him be seduced and subsequently discarded by some short drunken whore who has a thing for big dicks."

I gawp at him in insulted infuriation, wondering how he can dare to speak to me like this when he doesn't even know who I am. Also, talking about Loz as if he's a gigantic retarded kid? Not cool.

"I, however, DO grasp the concept of string-free sex so if it's a good time you're after I can assist you with that, my dear," he purrs, unpredictably turning on the allure and making my pulse pound for a different reason. "There's a bathroom down the hall for the disabled and it's rather roomy and always empty. I can take you there right now if you wish. Most men, including my brother, are too stupid, selfish and sloppy to ever know how to really please a woman but once that door is locked after us I will show you the most enjoyable experience of your life."

He steps closer to me. His softly swaying hair covers half of his face but doesn't hide his bright green gaze, his pupils thinner and more slitted than Loz's. As he steps nearer the scent of him fills my head, making me feel dizzy. He smells like pure sin. What's really unsettling is that I don't think he's even wearing cologne.

"Let me ask you something," he continues in that seductively purring tone. "Have you ever been so weak at the knees you couldn't stand up?"

I can't reply to that. My throat has gone too dry. I draw in another rapid breath when he touches my bare thigh, the heat of his hand scalding me even though the leather of his glove.

"That's how you'll feel when I kiss you," he promises, fingers sliding higher along the side of my leg, giving me tingles right up to my hip. "Imagine how it will feel when my mouth is on your body. Imagine how it will feel when I am licking you. Tasting you."

I stare up at him powerlessly, my blood pulsing so quick and fast in my veins that I can hear it in my head. His eyes are no longer cold but blazing, scorching, sucking me in and suffocating me with their fiery intensity. With a superhuman effort I break the visual contact, only to discover myself staring at his lips instead, watching them move as he speaks, thinking about exactly what I don't want to think about.

"You might think you know what an orgasm is, but I can guarantee you've never had a real one until I have given it to you," Kadaj murmurs silkily, gloved fingertips edging under the hem of my skirt and skimming the lace side-seam of my panties, causing unwanted warmth to rush into my lower belly.

"I can guarantee you've never screamed with pleasure the way you will when I am inside you. Would you like that, little Miss Chocolate-eyes? Would you like me to make you scream?"

I am unable to repress the shudder of both lust and terror that courses through me at that, and I momentarily shut my eyes, wishing he would go away and stop tormenting me with his obscenely tantalising words. Behind my closed eyelids I can sense him moving closer and when I look up in panic, he's leaning in towards my mouth, tongue flicking quickly across his half-parted lips, like a taipan preparing to sink fangs into my flesh and inject me with poisonous toxins.

"No," I whisper, pressing my open palm against his hard, flat chest to keep him at bay. He blinks in surprise.

"No?"

"No!" I repeat in a stronger, louder tone, shoving his hand out from under my skirt and off my thigh. My pulse is still pounding two heartbeats away from a coronary but I'm using the adrenaline rush to my advantage, using it to defend myself and bring out some helpful aggression.

"Not interested, you slimy son of a bitch," I growl. "Loz can touch me. You can't. So just back the fuck off, all right?"

He takes a step in reverse, appearing bewildered, as though this has never happened to him before. I use his uncertain hesitation to further assert my stance on the situation.

"I like Loz. A lot," I emphasise furiously. "He's funny and honest and unlike you, has no clue of how attractive he really is. That, Kadaj, makes him even more attractive than you." My lips twist in a mirthless smile. "Shocking, huh?"

Seeming to recover his composure after a few moments he replies mildly, "All right. Have it your way. But you should know this - I can do pain just as well as I can do pleasure."

Here his voice turns as chilly and sinister as his eyes have become once again.

"Make my brother cry and guess which one you'll be feeling."

With that final warning he turns on his boot-heel and stalks away, his walk much angrier and stiffer than the sensual strolling he was doing before. His leather-clad figure shoves into the swarm of people within the room and vanishes like black smoke. I'm so relieved by his departure that I almost slip off my stool and I have to grip the edge of the bar bench with both white-knuckled hands to stop myself from doing just that.

"Shit," I whimper to myself. "Shit, shit, shit."

I eventually pry my frozen fingers off the counter and take a much-needed gulp of my half-melted cocktail. When I put the glass back down I can see that my hand is shaking. Badly. I didn't want to show it in front of him but I'll be direct and admit it to myself. Being confronted by Kadaj was the most terrifying moment of my life so far. I've never been that petrified before but I can't decide what scared me more; him touching me or the fact that I might have wanted him to.

I can't believe he went from interrogating me, to insulting me, to threatening me, to seducing me and then back to threatening me, all in the space of less than five minutes and my head is still spinning from the abrupt changes in his character. Is he bipolar or does he have multiple personality disorder or what? Either way, there's definitely something wrong with him. Very wrong.

All of a sudden, a dark figure appears in my peripheral view and I jumpily look up to find that Yazoo has also decided to grace me with an unsolicited visit.

"Great. You too?" I grit out irritably, getting really fed up with this bullying brother crap. "What the hell is this - 'Pick on Cate Day'?"

"I am not here to upset you. I see Kadaj has already done that," he remarks, the quality of his voice both mellow and melodious. "Are you all right? Cate, did you say?"

"Yeah. Cate. And I'm just fine. I get threatened all the time," I retort sardonically.

"I do sincerely apologise for whatever my little brother said to you. I can assure you that it's nothing personal."

"Nothing personal? You didn't hear the things that came out of his filthy mouth. What's his problem?" I explode in fury.

"His problem? Oh, there's more than just one." A tiny smirk touches his gorgeously full lips, not affected by my unladylike cursing. "The one I believe you're referring to, though, is his savage suspicion of anyone not directly related to us. He's younger than both Loz and I but sometimes, Kadaj tends to think that he's our father."

"Boy, do I feel sorry for you," I mutter but Yazoo doesn't react to my sourness. I get the impression he doesn't react to a lot of things, unless it's absolutely necessary.

"Beneath his imposing size and strength, Loz is somewhat…sensitive," Yazoo explains delicately. "He feels everything more intensely than most people, and this is both his best and worst trait. Kadaj is just concerned for his welfare. That's all."

"I don't know what he believes I'm going to do to Loz but he couldn't be more wrong. In spite of what my roommate suggested I wear tonight, I'm not like them." I gesture to the other females in the club, particularly the ones swinging around oiled poles and shoving their surgically-enhanced tits in everyone's faces.

"I'm not a slut, okay?"

"I never said you were," Yazoo rationally points out. "I know you're not associated with the women working here because if that was the case you would have taken my brother into one of those booths and divested him of all his money by now."

Wow, someone who /doesn't/ think I'm a stripper or a whore. What a shocker.

"I have no issue with you and Loz getting to know each other," the angel-faced assassin continues. "He's having a great deal of fun and that doesn't normally happen unless he's hitting somebody or destroying other people's property. Outside of a fight, I can't recall seeing him this animated and lively for a long, long time. Perhaps never."

Yazoo gazes out over the crowded club for a short, pondering while, his profile sharp and striking, softened by the silken lengths of silvery hair curtaining either side of his face, shorter bangs falling across one eye.

"Personally, Cate, I think you may be very good for him."

"What about Kadaj?" I challenge. "He doesn't think that."

"Forget what Kadaj told you," he advises, facing me again. "I want my older brother to be happy and if you're the one who can achieve that then you have my full blessing. Be with him, Cate. Give him a little happiness." Yazoo sighs wistfully. "The poor boy hasn't had much of that, you know."

Grudgingly, I confess, "Gotta admit, Yazoo, you're a lot nicer than I thought you were going to be. I figured you for a cold, impassive bitch, actually."

"Oh, I CAN be that. But I can also be nice, when I choose to." He leans closer to me and I catch the faint, exotically sweet perfume of night-blooming waterlilies.

"Don't tell anyone, okay?" he murmurs confidentially. "It would completely ruin my bad-ass reputation."

I find my eyebrows rising at his unexpectedly humorous remark and he briefly smiles at me before sweeping away in a swirl of silver, white and black, melting into the crowd and disappearing again.

As civil and pleasant as Yazoo was just then, I'm betting he'd be every bit as vengeful as Kadaj if I caused Loz any heartache and wouldn't hesitate to make me pay dearly for it. It probably takes a lot to make him snap but when he does, may the Gods help you.

Experiencing the deadly wrath of two pissed off brothers and their respective weapons? Not something I want to happen to me in this lifetime. But it won't. Like I mentioned, I'm not that kind of girl. I wouldn't do anything that might intentionally hurt Loz.

I'd never hurt anyone I really liked.

Or was falling in love with…

***


	6. Violet Riot

Hello my faithful readers! Please accept my apologies for the lateness of this update. A lot of stuff has been going on in my life and I haven't been able to finish this chapter until now. But if it's any consolation to you, it's an extra-long chapter and features all three of the guys doing various bad-boy things so there should be something here to satisfy everyone. ^__^ Especially these people:

Soul Of Doom

Psycho Babble

Thanks again, guys, and please enjoy this chapter!

***

In the last part of Legacy:

"All right. Have it your way. But you should know this - I can do pain just as well as I can do pleasure."

Here Kadaj's voice turns as chilly and sinister as his eyes have become once again.

"Make my brother cry and guess which one you'll be feeling."

With that final warning he turns on his boot-heel and stalks away, his walk much angrier and stiffer than the sensual strolling he was doing before. His leather-clad figure shoves into the swarm of people within the room and vanishes like black smoke. I'm so relieved by his departure that I almost slip off my stool and I have to grip the edge of the bar bench with both white-knuckled hands to stop myself from doing just that.

"Shit," I whimper to myself. "Shit, shit, shit."

***

Part 6. Violet Riot.

At long last, Loz comes back from the men's room and Gods, am I glad to see him. He's the biggest and meanest-looking out of the three of them but he's the only one who hasn't made me feel scared or menaced. In fact, being with him makes me feel safe and shielded and I'm so thankful for that right now, I could almost leap up and throw my arms and legs around him like a starfish. I manage not to body-slam him, though.

"Finally," I drawl. "I thought you'd drowned in the urinal."

He stops in front of me, his hands hidden behind his broad back and a goofy grin on his face.

"Sorry I took so long. I was getting sumthin' for you."

"Oh yeah?" I raise my brow inquiringly at him. "What?"

"You'll see." He keeps grinning. "Pick a hand."

Starting to smile at his infectious excitability, I point to his right. "That one."

Bringing it around and showing me that it's empty, he replies jokingly, "Aw, too bad. Try again."

In spite of myself, I smile wider. "Okay. The left one."

This time he is holding an object and he produces it with a flourish. "Here's your prize, little lady."

Sitting in his palm is a neon stick. A pink one, the two ends joined together and formed into a bracelet. Somebody must be going around selling them in the club for a nifty profit. I look at him in astonishment.

"You bought this for me?"

"Yeah. I thought you might like it, since you listen to that techno stuff," he says shyly, passing it over.

Touched by his thoughtfulness, I exclaim, "Oh, Loz. You're the sweetest! Thank you so much."

"It's nothin'." He shrugs bashfully as he lowers himself down on the seat next to me and I lean in to award him another kiss on the cheek, this one longer and more grateful than before. I even give him a tiny squeezing hug around the neck to show how appreciative I am of his kindness. He's smiling when I pull back, maybe even blushing a little. It's a bit hard to tell since the club is so dim and full of swirly colour-changing lights. I slip the glowing circle of plastic over my hand and onto my wrist, gazing down at its phosphorescent radiance. Getting a present from a gorgeous guy should make me happier than this, and it normally would, but Kadaj's threatening words are still echoing in my head, worrying and distracting me.

Picking up on my changed mood, Loz inquires apprehensively, "What's the matter? You don't like pink? I can get you a blue one."

"No, it's not that. I love it," I assure him, glancing back up. "It's just…when you were gone…" I halt, knowing that I don't have to tell him what happened but I decide to anyway because he should know.

"I met your brothers," I reveal reluctantly. "They're very protective of you, aren't they?"

"Aw, crap." His brows cinch together, a crease appearing on his otherwise smooth forehead. "What did they say?"

"Nothing I'd like to repeat. Yazoo was nice about it but Kadaj?" I shake my head. "That little freak needs to be locked away and straight jacketed."

Sighing heavily, he replies, "I'm sorry. He gets weird about stuff sometimes."

"Weird? How about creepy and crazy?"

"He's not always like that," Loz immediately defends his younger sibling. "He just doesn't know you."

"Yeah, and he doesn't want to either," I retort. "He made it pretty clear that if I ever hurt you I'd be on the other end of his fancy sword."

"He doesn't mean it." Loz gazes at me imploringly. "When you get to know him, he's not that bad. Really."

My lips curve wryly at his earnest tone. "I see protectiveness runs in the family."

Right at that moment I hear something over the thumping beat of music that sounds a lot like a trumpet fanfare. It repeats and I realise it's coming from Loz's jacket.

"Is that your phone?"

He peers down at his pocket, only just noticing it's ringing. "Oh. Hold on, I better get this." He digs into the top half of his leather suit and pulls out a silver cell, making an annoyed face when he sees the caller ID. Flipping the phone open and holding it up to his ear, he impatiently barks, "What do you want?"

While he's listening, he glances around the club as if looking for the speaker. It's clearly somebody here and I've got a fairly good idea of who it might be. And it's not Yazoo, who's taken up residence on the far west wall of the room again, trying to quietly blend in with the wallpaper and not get noticed by girls which isn't working at all; a constant stream of emboldened females coming up and doing their best to flirt with him, all wanting a piece of that hot assassin ass. He seems unimpressed by the attention, bored even, barely even glancing at them, let alone speaking. Since he doesn't have a phone held in his hand - only a half-full wine glass - that means the person Loz is talking to must be Kadaj.

"I know. It won't. Yeah, I know that." Loz sounds progressively more irritated with each word. "You don't have to tell me three times! I'm not a moron."

He is silent for a moment as he's being spoken to and then he blurts out, "Because I want to, okay? Quit buggin' me!" With a scowl, he listens to the reply and then turns to the side, cupping his hand around the mouthpiece of the phone as if he doesn't want me to hear what he says next.

"I'm NOT getting angry." The way he's snarling between gritted teeth proves that he is. "Just leave me the fuck alone, all right?"

He hangs up without saying goodbye, tersely snapping the phone shut and sticking it back in his pocket.

"Sorry about that. It was my stupid brother," he mutters. "He's being a dick."

"Let me guess; he's telling you to stay away from me?"

After a long pause, Loz slowly says, "Noo."

He's a dreadful liar. I give him an arch look to let him know I don't believe him for one second and he sighs. "Okay. Yeah. That's what he said. But I ain't gonna. He can't tell me what to do tonight. It's our free time. We're not working and we're not looking for Moth-" He cuts off whatever it was he was about to say and ends with a defiant, "Free time means we can do whatever we want and he can't say jack about it."

Finding it highly flattering that he'd defy his bossy brother for me, I question teasingly, "So, hunky Hit Man. Since you've got all this free time, what do you want to do with it, then?"

"Hang out with you," he mumbles, looking all shy again.

"Good because that's what I want to do too."

He looks as though nobody has ever told him that before. "You really wanna hang with me?"

"Dude, by sitting here drinking at the bar with you, I already AM," I point out. I sip from my straw and then grin wickedly at him. "Hey, do you think if we hang out all night we can piss Kadaj off so much he'll leave and go to another club?"

He snorts. "I wish. He'd never leave Yaz and I on our own, though. Thinks we can't survive without him giving us instructions every ten minutes."

"How can you stand it?" I ask with an incredulous expression. "Having your kid brother act so overbearing and demanding all the time?"

Lifting his drink up to his mouth, he replies dryly, "You get used to it."

"Oh!" I spot a familiar face in the crowd, jumping off my seat excitedly. "Wait here. I gotta say hi to someone."

"Who?" Loz inquires but I'm already going in the opposite direction. With a huge smile I go up to this tall, brown-haired guy with glasses and the cutest dimples, tapping him on the shoulder. He turns from his college buddies and smiles back delightedly when he sees me, greeting me with a warm hug. I pull back and tell him he looks good – which he does, being the fit, handsomely intelligent type – and he tells me I look great in return, mentioning cheekily that he likes my boots. Big surprise. As I'm quickly finding out, men go nuts for these boots. We chat and joke for a short while and, mindful of not leaving Loz alone for too long, I have to make my eventual departure, hugging my friend again and promising to catch up again soon. He tells me to take care of myself and to give him a call sometime and then I turn away with reluctance, wishing I could talk more with him but also knowing now is not the time to do that.

When I get back, Loz is making that intense, scowly-face. It's almost cute.

"Who's that guy?" He asks jealously, shooting him a glare. "Ex-boyfriend?"

"Gods, no." I laugh. "That is my foster brother, Jaren. Man, I haven't seen him for months."

"Foster brother?" Loz's expression loses some of its intensity and he peers scrutinisingly at me, waiting for further information.

"Yeah. I grew up in a few different houses, with a few different families. He was from the last one I stayed with." I fidget with my straw and sigh, knowing my whole life story is about to come tumbling out. I don't normally tell people I've just met about it but for some reason I want Loz to know. I feel like I can trust him. And I'm kind of wasted which doesn't help to keep my mouth shut.

"I don't have any parents, Loz. Well, I did once but not anymore."

He stares at me. "What, you're like…an orphan?"

"Yes," I affirm in a quiet tone, gazing down into the remains of my cocktail. "My mom died of a stroke when I was only five years old. Dad never got over it and eventually drank himself to death. I was the one who found him on the couch. It's like he was sleeping. But I couldn't wake him up."

I swallow the lump suddenly sticking in my throat; the memory old but the pain still fresh. I'm a capable chick and I've managed to survive without a mother or father in my life but Gods, I miss them both so much sometimes.

"Shit," Loz nearly whispers in dismay. "I'm so sorry."

He moves closer and takes my hand in his, concerned sympathy and sadness in his face as he looks at me. "I'm not just saying that, little girl. I really am sorry."

"Thanks." I give him a small, trembling smile of gratitude before continuing on with my tale. "I had no other relatives to take care of me so after that I was moved from foster home to foster home. I was a difficult kid and I guess nobody wanted to deal with me. I wasn't girly. I swore too much, argued too much, fought with the other kids too much. I didn't really get along with anybody. Until my last foster home. It was the best one I lived in. The parents were great and the kids were even better. All boys and they didn't care if I acted just like them." My lips tug upwards in fond remembrance of tree-climbing, wrestling in the dirt and water fights on hot days and I spare an affectionate glimpse at Jaren's lanky figure.

"Jaren and I hit it off right away. He was like my best friend growing up. We'd tell each other everything. Stay up late at night whispering secrets. Sharing our plans and dreams. Talking about sex." I give a soft chuckle, recalling our innocence and naiveté on the subject and the many entertaining conversations we had about it. Then my amusement wilts, my voice turning wistful and nostalgic again. "He went to college to study engineering and ever since I moved out into my own apartment and got married we've kinda lost touch. It's a shame because we used to be so close back then."

"And you and him never…?"

In answer to the rest of Loz's unvoiced query, I confess, "Well, we kissed once. Just to see what it was like. But that's as far as it went." I squeeze Loz's fingers reassuringly. "Don't worry about him. He's won't try making moves on me. He's cool."

"Wouldn't wanna," Loz growls possessively, throwing Jaren another jealous glare. "I'd break his handsome, college-boy face."

I smile at Loz and this time, it's a brighter one, my frame of mind lifting. I love how he's acting like my boyfriend already and we haven't even had a first date yet. Reaching up to caress his cheekbone, I murmur softly, "He's not as handsome as you, Green Eyes."

Loz doesn't reply, just looks at me searchingly and intensely, his pupils narrowing as he focuses. He tilts his head slightly and for a thrilling moment I'm sure he's going to kiss me so I lift my chin, lips parting in anticipation and invitation.

"Sorry to interrupt, but do you guys want another drink?" The hedgehog-haired bartender inquires, glancing between us both with that curious violet gaze, apparently having noticed the emptiness of our glasses.

Dropping my hand, I declare with inebriated enthusiasm, "Fuck, yes. Bring 'em on, Blue Boy. This one's not nearly drunk enough for a Saturday night yet." I elbow Loz jokingly in the ribs.

"It takes a LOT to get me drunk," Loz remarks unthinkingly. "You know, because of what I am."

I turn and give him a weird look, wondering what the hell /that/ means, and he hurriedly adds, "Big! It takes a lot to get me drunk because I'm so big…and stuff." He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah. That's what I meant."

"Well, I may be able to help you with that, bud." Porcupine-guy leans across the bar, a piece of sapphire-hued hair falling across his brow and making me want to brush it aside. He's got silver stud earrings in both lobes and his white work-shirt is rolled up his tanned forearms, showing how strong they are. His face has a particularly fine-boned, sharpish structure, similar to Yazoo's or that rat-tailed redhead I spilled my drink on before, and I give a silent blessing to the Gods for putting so many pretty boys on this planet for me to perve on…I mean, appreciate the beauty of.

Dropping his voice to a hushed, top-secret level, the bar guy says to Loz, "Feel like something stronger? I got this bootleg overproof moonshine under the counter that'll give even a strong fella like you a decent kick in the guts."

"Sounds worth a shot," Loz muses, pushing over his spirit tumbler, empty except for a clump of ice cubes. "Make it a double, huh?"

The male in the black vest ducks under the serving bench so that all we can see are the tips of his long blue spikes and, making sure his supervisor doesn't see what he's doing, quickly pours the illegal liquor into Loz's glass, filling it almost to the top.

"This is between you and me, all right?" he cautions Loz as he straightens and places the now-full glass back on the bench.

"Sure," Loz agrees absently, smelling the brew and finding it to his liking, taking a large mouthful of the dark tawny distillation. After he swallows, his silver eyebrows shoot up in astonishment.

Bar-boy smirks knowingly, which he really shouldn't do because it makes him look really devious and puts wicked thoughts in my sexed-up brain. "Well?" he prompts Loz. "What do you think?"

Shaken but not stirred, Loz lets out a long breath and I can literally /smell/ how fiery the forbidden alcohol is, my tough drinking companion almost breaking out into a sweat at the choking burning that must be happening in his gullet and belly right now.

"That…" He clears his throat and starts again, his voice rough. "That's some serious firewater, man."

Loz gets chuckled at, the younger guy's violet eyes sparkling like amethysts. "See? What'd I tell you? Do I know my shit or do I /know/ my shit?"

Finally grinning, Loz reaches over and thumps the vest-wearing guy on the shoulder, probably a little harder than he ought to judging by the way the smaller male winces, but I assume that's Loz's way of showing man-to-man appreciation.

"Thanks, kid," he booms in that baritone voice. "This is just what I need. Keep it coming, okay?"

"No probs, pal. Will do."

Loz goes to pull out some money but I smack his hand aside. "Nuh uh, buddy. You've been buying the last few rounds. This time it's MY shout, okay?"

Loz lifts his shoulder nonchalantly, not objecting to having a girl pay for his drink. Blue Boy turns to me, still half-smirking and looking entirely too Godsdamn gropeable for his own good.

"Now that he's sorted, what can I do for you, young lady?"

I refrain from slurring, "How 'bout take your shirt off and dance on the counter for me, hot stuff?" and shrug instead, in no reasonable state of mind to be hitting on the wait staff or even making simple decisions about what to drink next.

"I dunno. Get me something purple."

Shaking his head in mock-exasperation, the spiny-haired young man replies, "I don't think I have any purple cocktails left. You've pretty much tried them all."

"Well, invent another one," I urge, as if that option should have been perfectly obvious to begin with. "You seem smart. I bet you can create something for me. Just make sure it's sweet, okay? Not burny like that bootlegged crap."

The guy grins confidently, taking up the challenge. "You're on, Missy, but /you/ have to come up with a name for this new drink. Deal?"

"Deal." I nod and watch interestedly as he gets to work being creative, appearing motivated by the challenge I've set him, getting a clean cocktail glass and pouring in a bit of this and a drop of that, his face lit up and soft mouth smiling, giving him a youthful, appealing attraction and energy. He must get bored making the same drinks over and over again and I've probably just made his night by letting him do something different. I'm generous like that.

"Ooo, looks good, doesn't it?" I enthuse to Loz, indicating to what our new pal is mixing up, using pink and blue liqueurs, a dash of lemonade, red syrup and a few other things I'm too slow to read the label of.

"I guess," Loz replies dubiously, no doubt imagining how high the sugar-content is going to be.

"Here, try this and tell me I'm not a genius," the trendy bartender announces when he's done, shoving his creation across the counter top and waiting excitedly for my reaction. It certainly wins points for appearance; the fizzing concoction consisting mainly of purplish-blue with a layer of marshmallow-pink at the bottom. It's tooth-dissolvingly sweet, just like I asked but damned if it isn't the most delicious thing I've had in my mouth all night. Of course, I haven't had Loz in there yet but I'm saving that for later…

I take another sip of the syrupy blend, enthusiastically nodding my approval. "You're a genius, Spikes. This is GREAT. I can feel my blood-sugar levels going off the charts already."

"So, what're we gonna call it?"

I have another thoughtful swig, smacking my lips together. It tastes like bubblegum, cotton candy and sherbet. It's like a liquid carnival, a riot of flavours cavorting on my tongue.

"I got it." Looking at his unusual eyes, I announce smilingly, "I'm gonna call it Violet Riot."

"Nice," he grins his endorsement.

"Feel free to add it to your cocktail list."

He quirks one thin, blue brow at me. "I might just do that."

Before Loz starts to suspect I'm flirting with Hedgehog Boy - which I kind of am, admittedly – I pay for our drinks, throwing in a tip for his trouble and receiving a cheeky wink in return. The kid goes back to work, zipping down the opposite end of the bar to serve some other people and now that we're alone again, I turn to the taller, older man sitting beside me, resuming the conversation we had begun earlier.

"Anyway, Loz. What about your parents? What are they like?"

He seems startled by the question, as if he didn't expect it, but rapidly masks his surprise, answering casually, "I don't know. They ain't around either."

"Why, what happened?"

"It's… complicated," is all he'll reveal and even that sounds reluctant. "You probably wouldn't understand."

"Complicated how?"

"Forget it," he mutters, turning away from me and focusing on his drink.

I ask him a couple more questions about it but he clams up and refuses to tell me any more. I sense him starting to shut down, to close himself off again like he was before, his face and voice turning blanker and more neutral so I stop harassing him. It's evidently a very personal subject and I don't want to pry. If he wants to talk about it, he will but until then, I'll avoid the topic.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly, kicking myself for ruining the fun mood we had going on. "I didn't mean to be nosy. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

He doesn't say anything for a while and then he heaves a sigh. "It's not that I don't want to. I do, Cate. It's just…I'm not allowed to."

"Kadaj's orders?" I guess.

He nods glumly. "I already told you too much about us. My brother would kill me if I said anything else." He sighs again. "It's better if you don't know anyway. You'd probably only end up in danger."

I look at him and his strange, otherworldly eyes, wondering again how his pupils came to be elongated like that. I've seen all kinds of extraordinary eye-colours on this planet but I've never seen anything such as this before. It's peculiar. Almost not…natural. I know he said it was a genetic thing but I can't help suspecting that there's more to Loz than he's letting on. A lot more. He's told me about his job – and I'm grateful he's let me know such confidential information - but there's other stuff he's not telling me. Important stuff. There's something about him that's such a mystifying enigma, making me want to learn more about him and who he is, where he came from, what his life has been like and why he acts the way he does. He's so different to any other person I've ever known and not just in looks. He's strong yet shy. Simple yet complex. Aggressive yet gentle. Fierce yet kind. Reserved yet truthful. Cynical yet naïve. Tough yet vulnerable. He's not like other guys at all. In what way, I'm not exactly sure but I can sense that he's something special, rare and unique. I've been searching for a man like this my whole life and now that I've found him, I can't let Loz get away because I'd never find anybody of his calibre ever again.

"I don't know what your big secret is, Loz, but I'd really like to find out," I say softly. "I know we just met but I hope one day you can trust me enough to tell me."

Turning back to me, he searches my gaze, intently and guardedly, as if seeking the true meaning behind the words I've just spoken. Or looking for lies.

He mustn't have found any because after a while his expression relaxes a little.

"Yeah," he returns in a quiet tone. "I really hope so too."

His voice is tinged with hidden yearning, as though he wants nothing more than to let someone in and share his secrets but at the same time he sounds afraid of it, of trusting someone that much. But the fact that he's even considering it makes me optimistic about the future and makes me believe that we actually could have one together, in spite our differences and the issue of us being literal strangers who don't even know each other's last names. I don't generally believe in love at first sight - lust, maybe - but now that our gazes are connected and held, I can see in those glimmering green pools of his that Loz is thinking the very same thing as I am; that we might have something here. Something unknown and kind of scary but excitingly promising and potentially powerful. Something we both feel. And need. And yearn for. And have been waiting for our whole lives. Something deep.

Something…real.

My Gods. I think I could be looking at my soul mate. The one I'm meant to be with for the rest of my life. Images flash in my head. Marriage. Kids. Growing old together. The works.

Shit, I must be smashed. I only just got divorced. Why the hell am I even /thinking/ about weddings again? Especially since the last one I attended turned out to be such a spectacular success. Not. I didn't come here looking for a husband – in fact, that was the furthest thing on my mind when I walked up the stairs and through the door – but I can't help imagining these crazily fanciful things though, feeling as if we're two magnets being pulled towards each other, or perhaps two opposing forces being pushed together from behind by fate's persistent hands.

I'm not psychic and I don't know what's going to happen in the future but right now, I do know one thing for certain.

I want Loz. Oh yes, I want him bad.

Since we're locking eyes, I decide that now's the ideal time for us to lock lips too so I go to reach up to Loz's face in order to pull him closer and as I do so I clumsily bump my forgotten drink with my elbow. Before I can even react or even gasp in alarm Loz's hand zips out and catches the glass with a speed and deftness that stuns me, steadying it and managing to save most of the violet liquid inside, although some of it sloshes over the rim and onto my bare arm.

"Aw, fuck," I grumble, grabbing some napkins and dabbing at the cold, sticky mess on my skin and the bar bench. "If you wanna date me, Loz, I should warn you now that I'm hopelessly clumsy. If you take me out anywhere in public I'm probably going to embarrass you. I drop things, trip on things and run into things. If it can be knocked over or spilled, I'll probably be the one to do it." I look at him warningly as I dump the sodden serviettes into an already overflowing ashtray. "Just so you know."

He doesn't seem too concerned about my faulty physical wiring, instead asking in amazement, "Are we gonna date?"

"I dunno. Are we?" I throw back mischievously. "I hope so 'cause I'm having an awesome, awesome time with you, man. I would totally like to see you again."

"Me too," he exclaims. "With the awesome. And the totally."

"So, that's settled, then," I declare authoritatively. "You and me, Lozzie...we's gonna be dating buddies. Cheers." I hold my glass up to him and he raises his in return, both of us clinking our glasses together before taking big swigs of our drinks, Loz evidently forgetting how dangerously potent his firewater is, instantly coughing and spluttering while I whack him on the back and try not to giggle.

"Shit," he rasps, wiping at his watering eyes. "That's harsh. It's like sucking on petrol."

"Done that before, have you?" I reply with a none-too-sympathetic grin. As an afterthought, I ask, "It's okay if I call you Lozzie, right?"

He shakes his head, still looking as though he can't quite believe what's happening to him. "Girly, if you date me you can call me anything you damn well want."

Since we've agreed to become a semi-serious couple, we celebrate this by drinking some more, Blue Boy making me another Violet Riot since I slopped some of the last one over my own arm. I'm still spun out by how quick Loz caught that glass. I don't think he even looked at it; just acted on reflex. If he can move like that, he's nowhere near as plastered as me then so I make sure the cute bar guy keeps refilling Loz's tumbler with that nameless moonshine stuff, Loz rapidly turning immune to its fieriness and chugging it down like apple juice. Unlike yours truly, he doesn't get clumsier the more he drinks, but he does become a lot looser and relaxed, not even caring when some young, hot-headed ruffians get into a testosterone-fuelled tussle behind him and one of them gets shoved into his back, bumping him from behind. I expect Loz to leap up roaring but he just slants them a half-annoyed look, grunts at them to watch what they're doin' and then turns back to me. His casual reaction surprises me but in a pleasant way. Some men get ultra-aggro when they drink heaps and I thought this'd be the case with a heavy metal head-banger like Loz but the drunk version of himself is actually a pretty cruisey, mellowed-out guy. We chat, we laugh, we flirt. We have fun, just like any other members of the opposite sex getting to know each other and for the moment I choose not to dwell on what secrets Loz is hiding from me. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough.

As I'm applying a fresh coat of raspberry-flavoured lacquer to my lips, I hear a new tune start up on the DJ's mixer. "Oh, I fuckin' love this song!" I gush to Loz, jamming my gloss-stick back into my skirt pocket. "You HAVE to come out with me again and I'm not taking no for an answer."

I quickly drain the contents of my glass and, leaving it on the counter for Hedgehog-guy to clear away, I hop off the bar stool, looking at Loz in expectant eagerness. He groans complainingly when I tug on his hand but gets up like a good boy and follows me onto the wooden floor under all the disco lighting. It's a new track just out; hard guitar rock remixed with a driving techno beat - something we can both enjoy. A lot of people enjoy this song too, apparently, because the floor is packed with them and we work our way through the human ocean until we find a suitable spot to blend in. Like the trancer that I am, I start jumping around with one hand in the air which I soon realise isn't a great idea because I'm not sober enough to do it without staggering and I don't want a repeat of crashing into someone else and having to fork over more money to replace another drink that I've spilled with my uselessness. Much like he saved my cocktail, Loz grasps my upper arms and gently steadies me, making sure I don't trip over and hurt myself. Needing his stabilising influence, I stumble around and lean back against his chest – also an acceptable excuse to feel that solid body against mine. And boy, is it solid. It's like leaning on a rock wall. Only warmer. He doesn't mind me leaning on him for balance, indeed welcoming my weight, slipping his right arm around my middle and resting his hand on the side of my waist, hugging me close to the front of him. I can feel his oval-shaped belt buckle pressing against the base of my spine. If I wriggled against him, I could easily make those pants of his fit tighter all of a sudden and cause him a significant amount of embarrassment. Not that I'm going to. I wouldn't do that to him just for the heck of it. I'm not a tease. When I want him to get hard, it'll be for a reason. For now, I just wanna dance.

Losing myself in the chest-pounding music I move against Loz. And he moves with me. He's still not really dancing, just supporting my body with his; his torso and stomach against my back, firm and stable. His left arm is on the outside of mine, his palm covering the back of my hand and his fingers lacing through mine, strong and sure. He's holding me as I rock and sway to the pulsing tempo, our bodies completely in sync. For a non-dancer he moves with perfect rhythm, almost like he knows what I'm going to do next, as if he can anticipate my motions. As the excited crowd jostles us, he hugs me closer and I feel absolutely secure in his embrace, like he will not let me slip and fall, like he will always be there to catch me, and I know on an instinctual level that Loz is somebody I can trust with my safety. My life.

Maybe even my heart.

Since my last hubby damaged it by divorcing me, I haven't been in a hurry to give my heart away again but you know what? I might be ready now. I might be ready to enter into a partnership, a commitment, a monogamous relationship, to get involved with someone, to be their girlfriend. Woman. Wife? Can I see myself marrying again? Hmm…perhaps. One of these days. I'm not that ruined emotionally that I can't envision myself as Mrs Loz…um…something. Damn, gotta find out what his surname is before I can marry the guy. But I could see myself getting hitched again. I could so see that. Despite my past heartache, I still believe there's someone on the planet who's meant just for me.

I still believe in forever love.

Or I might just be utterly trashed and not know what the hell I'm talking about. Yeah. That's probably it. I'm fucked up on purple cocktails, my brain is mush and I'm thinking dumbass romantic girl-thoughts because I've been without a man for so long. Forget that heavy, serious shit. I'm dancing with a hot guy here! There's techno music! And I got a glow stick! Whee!

Eyes half-closed in a blissful state of being, I lean against Loz's wonderfully supportive body and wave my free hand in liquid swirling motions, watching the pink streaks the fluorescent band around my wrist leaves behind, finding the sight spellbinding, especially when the strobe light kicks in; the blinding flashes creating a black and white snapshot where the whole room gets frozen for a second in time, like a lightning strike in the dark. The night has reached its pinnacle, the point where the music is loud and throbbing, the laser lights are spinning and hypnotic – slicing through the smoke-haze that winds around everything like mist – everyone is drunk, sweaty and horny and we all just want to dance and grope and grind together as one heaving sea of humanity. The whole scene is very tribal and very primal, bringing out our baser animal sides and our desire to touch and be touched, to pair and to mate.

Even Yazoo ventures away from the wall he's been stuck to for most of the evening and weaves through the partying populace onto the dance floor, bringing with him an adorable, casually-dressed young man with shaggy black hair who's chewing his own thumbnail, his dark eyes huge and slightly shocked, as though he can't fathom why this stunning silvery creature has selected him over everybody else in the club. I guess Sara from the bathroom was right about Yazoo's sexual preference because he's been approached by dozens of women and I've seen him either refuse their offers with aloof politeness or just ignore them outright, turning away silently and coolly until they get the picture. This is the first person Yazoo has shown real interest in and must have been who he was staring at earlier. I notice he passes right by Kadaj, as though he wants his littler brother to see the cutie he's brought with him. Kadaj grins approvingly, slapping Yazoo cheekily on the ass as he glides past. Yazoo just smiles and keeps walking, holding the chosen boy's hand and leading him to a slightly less crammed area of the floor so they can dance without being crowded or bumped into. I note that the kid has bare feet. He's game, walking around a nightclub with no shoes on. I wouldn't mind taking these platform boots off to make myself more comfortable but hello, broken glass? And let's not forget icky sticky-floor syndrome. Doesn't seem to bother this boy, though. He probably goes barefoot all the time. Either that or he's too dazzled by Yazoo's angelic beauty to notice if he's getting glass-shards stuck in his soles.

Not one for small talk or shyness, Yazoo slips his palm around the back of the younger man's neck, drawing him closer until they are nearly eye to eye, Loz's slimmer sibling absorbedly gazing down at his overawed partner. Yazoo towers over him, partially because the boy is kind of hunched over with his shoulders slumping forward, like he spends most of his time in front of a computer and has developed bad posture. Even if he stood up straight, he still wouldn't be as tall as Yazoo but I don't think Yazoo wants an equal. He wants someone he can be…well, not dominant over, as that doesn't seem to be part of his laid-back personality, but definitely someone he can take the role of the male seducer with and this shorter, more passive kid suits him perfectly. Realising he ought to be a participant in the seduction ritual, not just a dumb-struck mannequin, the brunette boy removes his thumb from his mouth and tentatively touches Yazoo on the waist, using only the tips of his fingers, as if he's not used to human contact. His hands are long and thin, much like the rest of him. It appears that Yazoo likes long and thin as he begins to dance with the boy, moving with dream-like slowness and sensuality, as if he's making love to the air between them, no other part of their bodies touching except for the kid's fingertips on his waist, and Yazoo's hand on the young man's nape, gloved fingers woven in feathered ebony hair. Yazoo is an amazing, amazing dancer. Graceful as a ballerina but much sexier and infinitely more seductive. His dress-coat seems to float around his fine figure, almost like it's part of him, and his lengthy pale-grey hair has the same swishy lightness, granting him an aura of being airy and wraithlike, of being not of this realm, and again I have thoughts of angels and vampires, of fairytales and mythical creatures. He's quite possibly the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I have to force my gaze away from his lithe, sinuous body because if I don't, I'll be watching him all night and Loz might not like that very much.

Of course when I look somewhere else, I'm drawn back to Kadaj. Bit hard to miss him with his stand-out platinum mane, each collar-length strand reflective and shimmery as if actually coated in precious metal. He is in the centre of a large group of women, and a couple of so-inclined boys, unmistakably the star of this entire place, like a celebrity, even though most people probably don't even know his name. Or if they do they have no idea that he's a torturer and a murderer; only that he's glamorous and gorgeous and they want him. Everyone in that group is trying to get close to Kadaj, swarming in front and behind of him, hands grasping at his arms, his jacket, his hips, even daring to stroke his gleaming hair. He's surrounded by a number of ardent admirers who would gladly give him whatever he desires but he's not paying particular attention to any of them. He's letting them touch him - even the boys - but he's not touching anybody back. As he dances it's not with anyone or for anyone else. It's for himself, for the unadulterated exhilaration of it, letting the beat of the music take him over and guide his movements. His elated face is tipped up to the whirling lights, eyes closed with abandon, kaleidoscopes of colour washing over his skin and silver head, making his lips look blue and his hair even bluer.

He dances like he walks, with self-assured sexuality and style, seeming to gain pleasure from the feel of simply being in his own body. By how blissed out he appears, it wouldn't surprise me if he's taken some drugs, like Euphorine or Fantasmic, popular happy-pills for clubbers. I tried Euphorine once a couple of years ago and though it certainly gave me a rush, I spent the whole night walking around with my eyes so wide and pupils so dilated I looked like a manga character; a real-life cartoon. These days I'm more aware of the risks involved with popping pills and can get the same feeling by downing a few cocktails but I couldn't say the same for Kadaj. He's young and out to party hard so the Gods only know what he's swallowed or snorted to help him get high.

As I watch, he randomly reaches out and grabs the first person within range, a girl with bobbed pink hair and matching hot-pants who has practically been rubbing herself on his leg for the last two songs. He yanks her forward with one arm, crushing his mouth against hers. The girl excitedly receives the demanding thrust of his tongue, squashing her tits against his chest while other people look on in lustful envy, wishing they were the ones in her place. I'm not sure if I'm seeing things or if it's just the coloured lights shining down from the roof but I think I catch a glimpse of green luminescence near Kadaj's other hand as he makes a quick gesture and then she suddenly goes slack, as if swooning with overwhelmed ecstasy. He kisses the girl thirstily and roughly for a few more seconds and then releases her. She looks weak and faint, her face white and eyes glazed. Pushing her away from him with an abruptness that borders on revulsion, Kadaj watches impassively as she collapses and falls backwards into the crowd. He breathes in deeply and allows his eyes to drift shut for a moment, swaying on his feet and looking even more drugged than before, and then he turns his back on the unconscious pink-haired girl. Showing no emotion whatsoever, he barges through the milling mob, walking away and letting them deal with her. I stare at him as he leaves, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

"Hey!" Loz's envious outburst slices though my pre-occupation. "If you wanna check out my brother at least do it when I'm not standing right here."

"I wasn't…I just thought I saw…" I glance back at the small group of people trying to revive the passed-out girl and then look back at Loz in bewilderment.

"Didn't you see that?" I raise my voice, trying to be heard over the music. "It was really weird. He grabbed her and then she-" My words are cut off when Loz impulsively takes me by the face and leans down to cover my mouth with his own. His lips are pressed firmly against mine but his palms are so very gentle and warm and I soon forget whatever it was that I'd been thinking about. All that's going through my mind is, "Ohmygods, ohmygods, he's kissing me!" I'm so astounded by the sudden move I even forget to close my eyes. As if realising he probably should have asked first, he starts to pull away but then abruptly changes his mind, swooping down again for another taste of me, our mouths pressed together harder and longer this time, Loz dragging this moment out, delaying it, as if it might be the last chance he gets to do this. When he starts giving me small, hungrily-sucking kisses, like he's savouring my flavoured lip-polish, I almost melt in his hands, my eyelids fluttering shut as I lean forwards onto his broad chest, completely surrendering to him. The scent of the moonshine he's been drinking is heavy on his breath. I lose all feeling in my legs and if he wasn't cupping my face in his hands, I'd probably slide right down to the floor in a dizzy daze.

Eventually, but far too soon in my opinion, he draws back, licking my raspberry-gloss off his lips. His eyes are faintly anxious, as though he's expecting to be scolded for making such an audacious move without obtaining my permission first. Like I really needed to be asked. I've been sending him the kiss-me vibes for quite a while now.

"I was wondering when you'd do that," I sigh drunkenly, my lips still tingling. "So worth the wait."

Relief fills his face. "You don't mind?"

"If I minded, would I do this?" I return, grasping his strongly-crafted jaw and standing on tip-toe so I can reach his mouth, kissing him back with an assertiveness he isn't prepared for. With a muffled groan of amazed desire, Loz crushes me to his chest, angling his head and bending down a little to compensate for my shortness, his lips eagerly parting for mine. With his arms so tight around me I'm finding it difficult to breathe but as long I have enough oxygen not to pass out, I don't care. I'm the first one to introduce tongue, not delicately or slowly, but practically shoving it in, wanting to know what he tastes like. Yes, I know it's brazen but I'm not a lady and I'm not gonna try and act like one. I'm a ballsy chick who knows what she wants and isn't shy about going for it, especially after a few drinks. Finally inside the hot wetness of his mouth, my senses are assailed with the sweet-sour flavour of the firewater the bar guy has been supplying him with, the tang of illicit alcohol strong and intoxicating. Beneath that I can still taste him, Loz's own personal taste, something I can't describe, something masculine and addicting, making me crave more of it and kiss him deeper and more aggressively.

Feeling me practically mouth-raping him, Loz gives another astonished groan, one that I capture and swallow with pleasure. My boldness seems to shatter his tentative timidity and he gives me his tongue in return, coiling it around mine in repeated stroking motions. He seems to be tasting me too, and though I must taste disgustingly sugary to him, he still kisses me with a raw, needy thirst that stirs my passion, waking it up like a sleeping wildcat and making me growl in sudden lust. I arch nearer to my bigger partner, flattening my breasts against the front of his torso, my fingers climbing up the nape of his neck into the pixie-peak of his hair. It's a lot softer than I thought it'd be and causes me to briefly wonder how he gets it to stay up like that. My other hand wanders downward over his ribs and side, finding the gap between his jacket and pants and slipping into it, touching the warm skin of his hip. He reciprocates by investigating under the back of my halter-top, working his fingers beneath the wide band of my bra and resting his palm between my shoulder blades, as if he needs to touch my skin too. His left hand slides down over my short skirt and cups my ass through the denim fabric, Loz having figured out by now that he doesn't have to ask anymore. I'm all his and he knows it. While everyone else is dancing around us, Loz and I stand there making out, not caring who sees us, devouring each other with our mouths and feeling each other's bodies with impatient hands. I'm sure we're not the only ones doing this but I'm too occupied to turn around and look for myself, only concerned with the leather-suited man I'm kissing and the heat I feel bubbling in my blood at his touch. I know he feels the same heat too; I can sense it radiating from his body like the glow from a fire.

As if on cue, the DJ starts playing a track which is essentially a fuck-tune, the lyrics describing a particular way to do it – ass up, face down - the hardcore rhythmic beat interspersed with female moaning and orgasmic cries, reminding me of just how long it's been since I've had hot, hard sex. This song makes me want it.

Now.

With Loz.

I break off the kiss and completely disregarding my earlier proclamation that I'd never screw anyone in a club, I lean into Loz's ear and blurt, "Ever done it in a public bathroom?"

He stares at me, his jade gaze murky and smouldering beneath his surprise. "Nuh-uh. Why?"

"Would you like to?"

"Right now?"

"Right now. I want you, Loz," I purr, leaning in again to lick enticingly at his earlobe. "Do you want me?"

"Hell yeah," he answers, managing to sound excited and nervous at the same time.

I grin naughtily and take him by the hand.

"So, let's go, biker boy. I wanna see what's under that sexy suit of yours."

***

Who else wants to see what's under Loz's suit? Review kindly and I'll show you… ;)


	7. Bathroom

A/N: 24th June 2009. The bathroom scene has been edited to provide more juicy detail and raunchy Loz/Cate smex. There's a lot more swear words and general adult lewdness. If this is your thing, please re-read this chapter again and most of all, have fun doing it!

Haha, yes, the one chapter you've all been panting for has finally come! Our favourite big guy Loz gets some much-needed McLovin'. I worked extra-hard on this chapter and it's extra-long too. I really enjoyed doing this one for you guys and I hope you like it just as much as I do.

Note: Chapter contains swearing and graphic het (M/F) or guy/girl smut, to put it simply. Also contains oral and if the thought of Loz getting it on with a chick squicks you in any way, then go read something else, please.

Okay, to these lovely folks who reviewed I will say thank you:

Soul Of Doom: I will not be held responsible for nosebleeds. Lol Thanks for reading!

Natzilla: I loved the story of how you found my fic; last one on the last page you looked at. I'm glad you took the time to read it too. It's so hard to figure out if a story is any good from the short description you're allowed to put up but hopefully people will see your review and know that it's not one of the crap ones. :)

K.B: Thanks again for leaving your comments. No need to hurt me – see? I continued it! If you thought Loz was hotness before, wait til you read this part...

Please enjoy!

BTW, the guy Yazoo is dancing with is L from Death Note. Just in case you didn't pick that up last time. ;) What? It's an AU Final Fantasy world! Anything is possible...

***

Part 7. Bathroom.

As we're working our way through the human swarm on the dance floor and beginning to head towards the bathrooms, I tug Loz down to me, yelling probably a little louder than I need to, "Do you have protection?"

"Don't need it," he replies in an unconcerned manner. "I might not have my weapons but I can still hit really hard. Like I said before, you don't gotta worry about us getting harassed."

"I mean a condom," I stress, lowering my voice. "That kind of protection. Do you have one?"

"Oh. Shit, I don't have any." Loz's face falls in dismay as he considers the possibility of not getting any sex after all but then he suddenly brightens, like he's got an idea. "Wait - I know who does. Stay here."

He positions me in front of a tree-fern that's taller than I am so he knows where to find me again. "Don't move, all right?"

"Not moving," I reply promisingly and watch as he scans the room, searching for a silver head very similar to his own. Locating who he's looking for Loz carves through the crowd with determined strides, shoving aside anyone too slow or drunk to get out of his road. At the bar with a bottle of water in his hand, Kadaj tilts his head inquiringly at Loz's purposeful approach, Loz leaning down to speak to his little brother, asking for what we need. Much like before, Kadaj's eyes slice straight over to me with the swiftness and sharpness of a sword. He seems infuriated and appalled that I'm actually going to sleep with Loz in spite of his very scary warning but I'm too drunk and horny to be affected by his glowing green glare. I smile pleasantly and send him a friendly fuck-you finger. He turns aside in revulsion, as if I'm some filthy prostitute with a festering venereal disease. I keep smiling. Kadaj can go screw himself. I don't care what he thinks. Kid needs to lighten up and let big brother live his own life. Not at that point yet, Kadaj argues with Loz, obviously attempting to talk him out of this, acting as though him getting laid is the worst idea ever, but then Loz growls something threatening and holds out his hand demandingly. Caving in, Kadaj sighs in a dramatic fashion and then digs in a secret compartment of his suit, finally passing over the object of dispute. When Loz tries to thank him, Kadaj just rolls his eyes and shoves him in the chest, shaking his head in disgust as he walks away. Not affected by his little brother's moodiness, Loz grins triumphantly, stuffs the condom into his pocket and, armed and ready for action, he begins to cross back to where I'm excitedly waiting. I have the urge to do a victory dance but don't because I'd only look like an idiot. It's just that condom = love.

Looks like I'm not the only one getting love tonight. I've located Yazoo amongst the crowded club, hidden in a corner making out with that eccentric black-haired boy, pressing him up against the wall and forcing him to straighten his curved spine. Not that the kid looks like he minds, not with Yazoo's glove gliding up the inside of his baggy white top, over his waist and ribs, clearly heading for a nipple to play with. As he's doing that, Yazoo rocks his leather-cloaked hip into the other male's jean-covered groin, skilfully teasing and arousing with his strong, slender body while the bare-footed brunette hangs somewhat helplessly off the back of Yazoo's chest straps with his spidery fingers. The ends of Yazoo's long silvery hair brush over the younger man's knuckles. Head angled to the left and his eyes closed in a drugged manner, Yazoo strokes his tongue in and out of the boy's accepting mouth, sensually and deeply, the act more like slow fucking than kissing.

Damn. That's one lucky, lucky boy.

Seeing that scene of total hotness just emphasises how much I need sex right now and when Loz gets back to me I snatch his hand and start leading him along, walking as fast as I can without actually running. I don't see the people I'm passing by, only my goal which is the staircase at the back of the club and where it leads to. We clamber down those stairs and go past the women's restrooms, then the men's, eventually arriving at the famed disabled toilet. And it's vacant. We're just about to push the door open and go in when someone comes sauntering out of the male toilets and spots us. It's that sassy guy with the butt-length red hair. We all stop and stare at each other. He glances between Loz and I and the bathroom door, quickly putting one, two and three together.

"And what are we up to?" he enquires with fake sweetness.

"None of your fuckin' business," Loz retorts rudely.

"My, my. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Piss off."

I look at Loz and then this other guy, sensing a strange undercurrent of resentment and antagonism happening here. Perhaps they are rival hit-men, although Red Boy doesn't have that dangerous I-kill-for-money vibe about him. The only vibe I'm getting off him is a smart-ass, slacker one. Being so lanky and casually attired, he doesn't look like a highly-trained assassin either but I suppose I could be wrong.

"Do you two know each other?" I venture.

"If by 'know' you mean 'hate', then yeah. We know each other /real/ well," Loz answers in a sardonic drawl.

The redhead peers at me in disbelief, his blue almond-shaped eyes squinting slightly. "Are you really going in there with THAT?" He jerks his chin towards Loz. "You could have /me/, you know. I could thank you for the drinks money." A suggestive leer spreads across his face. "In any way you like."

Bristling like a wolverine about to attack, Loz snarls, "Don't you even /talk/ to her, Shin-Ra slave."

Beginning to bristle back, the goggle-wearing guy states indignantly, "I'm nobody's slave, yo."

"Oh yeah?" Loz eyes him up and down with narrowed pupils. "That uniform you're wearing says you are."

"Well, what does your uniform say about you?" The second male counters. "I'm a big queer triplet with a leather fetish?"

"I ain't queer," Loz replies in that same dangerously quiet tone he used with the cowboy that groped me before. "Say that again and I'll rip your rat-tail off and strangle you with it."

Far from being intimidated, the smaller man looks like he's going to laugh. "Oh no, I'm really scared. What are you freaks doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be out looking for dear old mom?"

Loz visibly tenses. "Shut up!"

"Or what? You gonna cry?"

At the taunting, Loz releases a low growl, upper lip peeling back.

"Loz, don't," I say quietly, knowing that if I don't intervene now, there's going to be one nasty, messy outcome.

Goggles glances at me again. "Girl, you sure you want to hook up with a dude who dresses exactly like his brothers and hangs out with them every second of every day? If you ask me, that's pretty queer."

Loz steps forward, growling louder, violence emanating off him in waves. I grab his arm. "No. It's not worth it."

"Watching him choke on his own blood will be."

"Loz, c'mon," I urge him, squeezing his tensed-up arm. "I don't want to see you fight. Just let it go. Please. For me?"

That last bit seems to do the trick and though he's brimming with rage he manages to stay where he is, clenching his hands by his sides. I know it's killing Loz not to be able to retaliate the way he normally would if I weren't here and I don't like using my feminine persuasiveness on him but watching these two brawl in the corridor and bust each other up is not something I want to bear witness to. That's not why we came down this way.

Also remembering why we're here, Loz scowls at the other man and grits out, "Stay the fuck outta my way tonight, Turk, or else your face and my fist are gonna have a serious accident."

The redhead just grins, amused that this hulking, angry alpha-male is being kept in line by a tiny little chick like me. I glare at him, guessing exactly what he's thinking; all the clever insults his hyperactive brain is cooking up as we stand there.

"Don't push your luck, Ponytail," I warn him. "One more word from you and I'm letting this dog off his leash. Want my advice? Walk away while you still can use your legs."

The guy squints at me, trying to decide what the hell I see in Loz over him. Giving up, he eventually shrugs. "Whatever, lady. Your loss."

He starts loping away, digging in his jacket pocket for cigarettes.

"Yeah, go back to your big, bald boyfriend," Loz can't resist retorting. "He's waiting for you at the bar."

The kid spins around in offence, his long hair snapping like a whip and blue eyes flashing irritably. "He's NOT my-" he starts to say but then decides it's not even worth making a comeback so he gives a haughty little huff and stalks off, muttering something about wishing he had his EMR, yo.

"Pal of yours, Loz?" I remark with sarcasm when he's gone.

Loz humphs. "Not friggin' likely."

He keeps staring intently down the hallway as if expecting the smart-mouthed punk to come back any minute and continue the verbal battle. It seems like he even hopes that will happen.

I really want to find out what that kid meant by saying Loz and his brothers ought to be out searching for their mother tonight but by the stormy look on his face I don't even dare to bring the subject up.

Instead, I query, "What's EMR stand for?"

Still focused on his own fury, he grunts, "Huh?"

"He said something about his EMR. Do you know what he was talking about?"

"Oh, that. It's an Electro-magnetic Rod." At my quizzical expression Loz sighs and explains, "It's similar to a metal baton. Only with a charge to it."

"Like your Dual Hound?"

He snorts contemptuously. "What he's got is nothin' more than a pissy little pipe. My weapon is way more powerful than his."

"I bet it is." I smirk. "Are you going to let me touch it? I'm sure I could figure out how to make your gun go off."

My brazen remarks quickly make him forget about the run-in with his enemy, Loz's slanty eyebrows rising as he turns to me in astonishment. "You still wanna?"

"Shit, yes. Don't you?"

He nods keenly, being a guy and therefore always in the mood for sex, no matter what.

"So, what are we waiting for?" I incline my head towards the bathroom. "Let's get in there before someone else does."

Taking my suggestion, Loz shoves the door open with one gloved palm while walking through it, bringing me inside with him. He slides the lock shut and tests it, just to make sure it's properly closed, muffling the loud music coming from outside. I quickly take a look around. It's as stylish and modern as the ladies bathroom but instead of having a midnight blue colour scheme, the tiles are dark red. It is spacious, like Kadaj said, with enough space for someone in a wheelchair to freely turn around in. The basin and vanity top are set down lower for easier access, right about waist height, actually, and the toilet has added grip-bars either side of it – handy for seated sexual gymnastics, I imagine. The other notable addition is a red leather couch on the floor beside the sink. Also quite convenient. No wonder people come here to screw. It's not so much a disabled bathroom as a cleverly disguised porn parlour. I'm surprised management hasn't provided sachet samples of lube and flavoured body oil or installed a condom vending machine. At least that would have saved Loz the trouble of having to ask his cranky little brother for one.

"We're not gonna do it on that, are we?" I question, glancing at the couch and wrinkling my nose even though it looks clean. "I could probably get herpes just by sitting on it."

"Who says we have to lie down?" Loz rebounds, putting his hands on my shoulders and walking me backwards until I'm smacking into the tiled wall. He positions one of his thighs between mine, pressing his fit leather-clad form up against me.

"All righty then. Standing it is," I murmur agreeably, lifting my face up for Loz's hotly demanding kiss. His tongue is the more impatient one this time, infiltrating my mouth to mate with mine, affording me a preview of what's about to happen very shortly with the more private parts of our bodies. My fingertips sneak under the edges of his jacket again, finding his hips, the smooth warmness of his skin too tempting not to touch. He does the very same thing to me, his gloveless hands creeping under my top, encircling my bare waist and then sliding up my ribs. He keeps going up until he reaches the cups of my bra, brushing the sides of my breasts with his fingers. Getting bolder by the second, he shifts his thigh further between my legs and deliberately presses it against the front of my mound, making me groan into his mouth. His thigh is hard. When I twist my lower body slightly to the side, I discover another part of him is too, my hipbone encountering a noticeable bulge beneath his belt. He groans too when I press into it. Both of us tease each other this way, pressing and kissing and groping until we have reached that feverish stage we worked ourselves into on the dance floor.

We soon have to catch our breath so we break apart for a few moments and refill our lungs, Loz gazing intently into my eyes while I stare up at his much more fascinating ones. I find it curious that his brows are silver but his lashes are black, the dark colour emphasising the brightness and luminosity of his irises, the mingled greens and blues like swirls of stained glass lit from behind with a candle, sparkling and shining and deep as the ocean. I could quite happily drown in them.

"I know I've already said this but wow, Loz," I gush, "your eyes are so, so pretty."

"No, /yours/ are," he emphasises shyly. "They're dark and rich, like chocolate fudge brownies."

I can't help smiling at that. "Do you even LIKE brownies? I thought you were a salt-lover."

"Yeah, but I like some sweet things." He gazes at me adoringly. "I like you."

"Again with the romance," I remark, pleased and impressed by his tender, sensitive side. Of course, him being romantic like that makes me want to bang his bones even harder and I start fiddling with his criss-crossed torso straps, wanting to get at his chest and see more of it than just that tantalising wedge.

"How the hell do you undo these things?" I ask, furrowing my forehead in befuddlement.

With one hand he snaps them both open. "Like that. You want me to unzip for you too?"

"I think I can handle that part on my own." I grin and take hold of his zipper-tab, drawing it down until I get to the bottom. Unhooking it completely, I grasp the two opened edges of his biker jacket and spread them apart, past his small, flat nipples.

"Oh. My. Gods," I breathe as I take in the stunning sight of his wide, muscular chest and rock-solid belly, which is rippled with the hardest abs I've ever seen. His hip-bones are indented, the sharp lines tapering down beneath his trousers, along with a bluish-green vein in his super-taut lower stomach. I'm faced with a wall of pure muscle here. Unlike a lot of other body-builders or gym-junkies, his skin is not florescent orange with fake tan but a pristine marble-white. He has no scars, no moles, not even a single freckle. He's flawless.

"Dude. Your body is amazing." Round-eyed with wonder, I poke his left pectoral with my fingertip, finding it just as immovable as it looks, like carved granite. "Fucking amazing."

He glances doubtfully down at himself. "You don't think I'm too bulky?"

Knowing that he's talking about his slimmer brothers, I shake my head, trailing my hand over the firm plane of his extensive chest. "No way. Bulk is good."

His torso is smooth and bare, the only patch of hair on him located way down low on his stomach, under his navel; a fine track of soft, silver fur that I want to rub my cheek on. I'd do it too, except I don't want to kneel on the bathroom floor in case somebody has vomited, peed or ejaculated on it - all of which are entirely possible - so I settle for rubbing Loz's enticing belly-fuzz with my hand. It's even softer than it appears and vanishes under his belt buckle, all but begging me to follow it down. Attempting to do that, I pry my fingers into the front of his form-fitting leather pants, discovering the elastic top of his underwear and worming past that, following his fur-track southward until I reach the top of thicker, coarser curls. I can sense the male heat of him radiating from lower down but can't touch it, can't go any further than this as his trousers are too tight. I'm about to unfasten his belt and yank down his fly to solve that problem but he's now got a hand around the back of my neck, trying with a very concentrated look on his face to figure out how to undo the double-tied strings of my halter-top without knotting them up even further. Since I've bared his chest he wants to do the same, wants to look at my uncovered skin the way I'm looking at his. Deciding to save him the dilemma of working on those fancily-looped bows with his big man-fingers, I halt his hands, saying, "How about I just do this?"

Leaving the ties alone, I grab the front of my top and lift it up around my neck, showing my tummy with its gemstone navel-ring and the lavender-coloured lingerie supporting my breasts. He gazes at the pale flesh swelling over the cups of my lace bra and I can almost see his mouth watering from here. In an attempt to make it stay out of the way of Loz's viewing pleasure I begin scrunching and tucking the pink fabric of the halter-top up underneath itself and as I'm doing so, my hand slips and I accidentally smack Loz in the face with it.

"Shit!" I yelp, covering my mouth in horror. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." He grins, showing that no harm was done. "Fine."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie," I coo, raising my chin and kissing the spot that I whacked, halfway between his cheek and jaw. "Sorry."

"It's cool," he insists.

Giggling with drunkenness, I say, "Told you I was clumsy."

His grin goes broader, wickeder. "I don't mind getting hit by a girl. I can take it."

"I'm sure you can, tough guy. But beating you up is not what I had planned."

"Oh, yeah? What DO you have planned?"

"This." With both hands I pull my bra down so it's sitting directly beneath my exposed breasts, framing them for Loz's hungry gaze, my nipples turning tight in the coolness of the air-conditioned room. Since I've lost weight my boobs aren't as big or full as they once were but I've still got more than enough to fill a man's palm and that's all that matters. They're still nicely-shaped and rounded which was a pleasing result for me as I expected them to deflate like balloons after all the pounds I shed. I can tell Loz appreciates how perky they still are as he hasn't taken his eyes off them once, staring at me the way a starving person would look at a three-tiered chocolate cake with whipped cream and cherries on top.

"You can touch them if you want. I won't call security," I tell him with an amused smile, taking his left hand and putting it on my corresponding breast, the warmness of his palm instantly heating my slightly chilled skin, giving me goose-bumps. He cups my female flesh, gently testing the firmness of it, his thumb brushing over my pebbled nipple and sending a spark down into my belly. I give a quiet moan and lean back against the wall, letting him look at me.

In a lust-roughened voice, he states, "You got a hot little body, babe."

"You don't know how great it is to hear that," I reply gratefully. "When I was going through the stress of my marriage ending, I comfort ate and as a result, stacked on the pounds like whoa. You shoulda seen me. I was a friggin' rhino. I've only just managed to lose all that poundage and that's only because I've been working my butt off in the gym." Grabbing a handful of soft flesh on my tummy, I sigh.

"I'd still like to lose a bit more, though."

Loz shakes his head. "Don't. You're perfect. You got great curves." He runs his hand down my waist, over the swell of my hip and along the fullness of my thigh. "Have you seen all those other chicks out there? They're so skinny and flat they look like twelve year olds. Either that or they're pumped full of plastic and silicone."

Bringing his hand back up and palming one of my all-natural assets, he pronounces, "As far as I'm concerned, you're the only real woman in this whole club, Cate."

I almost have a happy-gasm. "Oh, man. If I wasn't already in here half-naked with you, Silver-tongue," I purr seductively, "I'd so lay you for that."

A flicker of uncertainty shows in his face. "You ARE gonna lay me, though…right?"

"Technically, you're gonna be the one doing the laying. I'm just the layee," I point out. "But yeah. That condom your brother gave you is totally getting used tonight."

A slow, sexy smile makes its way across his face and the fingers of his other hand start wandering up my leg, under my skirt. When Kadaj did this back at the bar it freaked me the fuck out but with Loz I don't get any of those eerie frightening feelings. Only exciting, good ones that make my tummy tingle and so I let him go up as far as he likes. He reaches the hip-hem of my panties and then turns inward across the top of my thigh and down, following the inside edging of my undergarment. At the point where inner thigh meets groin, his fingertips slip under the lace, touching the short, curled hairs that begin to grow there.

"Is this all right?" he asks in a whisper, pausing for a moment. I nod vigorously, not wanting him to stop now. Very delicately, he brushes over my outer folds and when I give a murmured sound of encouragement, he slips the tip of one finger down further and dips into me. He stops again, glancing up with widened eyes.

"You…you're /really/ wet," he says, as if he didn't expect it.

"Apparently, that's what happens to a girl when she gets turned on," I say drawlingly. "For Gods sakes, Loz. You sound as though you've never been with a woman before."

I freeze with a sudden thought and stare at him. "Shit, you're not a virgin, are you?"

He huffs in dismissal. "Course not. I've been with women."

Sceptically, I enquire, "How many?"

"I dunno. A couple," he mumbles, almost blushing at my probing question regarding his private life.

"And what, they didn't get wet when you touched them?"

"Well, not like this." He amazedly tests my slickness again, his fingers slipping easily through it, sliding against my swollen flesh.

"Well, that's because they probably weren't as horny as I am," I quip. "Did I mention how long it's been since I've done this? Doesn't take much to get me worked up. Besides-" I cup his sizeable package with my hand and squeeze teasingly. "I'm just preparing myself for this powerful weapon of yours, big boy."

Grinning at my flirty tone, Loz strokes me there again, dipping into my wetness.

Our fun is interrupted by somebody impatiently hammering on the door and yelling, "Hey, hurry up in there!"

Annoyance crossing his features, Loz bellows back, "Fuck off! We were here first. Do that again and I'm gonna come out there and stomp on your face, you inconsiderate prick!"

The guy doesn't knock a second time. Funny, that.

"Maybe we shouldn't be in here," I say anxiously, imagining an actual disabled person having to wait for us to finish fucking before they can use their own bathroom. "What if that was somebody in a wheelchair?"

"I haven't seen any wheelchairs in the club all night. That guy's probably wanting to do the same thing we're doin'."

"But…"

"Screw 'em. They can wait," Loz declares. "I can't."

The thought of someone outside waiting for us to vacate the bathroom adds to our sense of urgency and with one hand in my panties, Loz bends down and takes my nipple in his mouth, making my breath hiss in rapidly. He licks around my areola, the searing feel of his tongue on my sensitive tissue causing me to forget about anyone who might be tapping their foot in impatience at the door, or even that there is another world outside of this red room and who I'm with. All I'm aware of is Loz and how much I want this big, beautiful man. While he's short-circuiting my brain with his fingers and mouth, I get to work on the front of his pants. I guess I don't need a can opener to get into these tight trousers after all because once his belt is unbuckled and his zipper undone, I can stick my hand right inside them. He tenses when I touch his maleness for the first time. He's like a steel rod covered in a layer of velvety skin; solid, warm and pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

"Whoa. You're a lot bigger than I expected," I comment with raised brows as I look at what I'm holding, barely able to get my fingers around his thickened length. "I don't know if I can take all that."

He looks terribly crestfallen until I elaborate, "Without some serious warming up first. Like I said, it's been a while since I've been with a guy."

"Me either. I mean, with a /girl/," he hastily amends.

"If you want the sad truth, Loz, I haven't been with anyone since my ex and that was nearly a year ago."

At the mention of my ill-fated marriage, Loz peers at me and quizzes, "Do you got any kids?"

I shake my head. "I never wanted any. I'm glad because a divorce is hard enough without dragging children through it too."

"If you're not ready to be with anyone, you don't have to do this," he says in extreme generosity, taking my fingers out of his undershorts. "If you don't want to I'll understand."

"Shut up." I whack him on the arm and immediately regret it because, ow. Hard.

"I haven't had sex in months. Of course I want to do it, you lunkhead."

He removes his hand from my lacy knickers and glances at me timidly. "So, uh…How exactly do you want me to…warm you up?"

He's already started to by stroking me with his fingers but truthfully, what I really want right now is to have him go down on me orally. In other, cruder words, I want him to eat me. However, I'm hit with an unexpected bout of shyness and I can't say it, can't tell him out loud that I need his head between my legs and his tongue inside me. I don't even know if he likes doing that or will do that. Some guys don't. I guess it can't hurt to ask.

"Well…" I swallow and lick my lips nervously, glancing at his mouth. "If you don't mind you could… maybe…you know…"

There's an awkward moment of silence and then he suggests, "You want me to like, lick your pussy or something?"

"Gods, yes," I breathe in relief, glad he's got the guts to say it. "That's exactly what I'd like. Thank you."

He looks at the floor, probably wondering about its state of cleanliness as I did, and he must have decided that it's safer if he doesn't kneel on it to give me oral because he bends down, gets a secure hold around the back of my thighs and then straightens, lifting my feet clear off the tiles. I instinctually go to wrap my legs around his waist but he elevates me further, my back sliding against the wall as he raises me above hip-level, bringing me up to his chest, my boots dangling down under his armpits.

"Loz," I say uneasily, clutching at his armoured shoulder-shields to balance myself. "What are you…?"

"It's okay," he reassures me. "Let go. I got you."

Trusting him, I do as he says. He changes his grip and in a few efficient, effortless motions he's hoisted me up higher and swung my legs over his shoulders so that I'm looking down at the top of his head while he's looking at the crotch of my underwear, his face right between my thighs.

"Holy crap, you're strong," I gasp, never been lifted up so high in my life. Or so quickly. Good thing I'm not afraid of heights. My head is mere centimetres from the ceiling but I don't feel scared in this position because my back is flat against the wall, my booted legs are over his squared shoulders and his hands are securely under my thighs. The way he's holding me makes me feel quite safe and supported and I know there's no chance he'll let me slip.

Loz peeks up at me, eyes concerned. "You comfortable like this?"

I nod, my heart thudding with excitement. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Good," he murmurs in return, focusing back on what's in front of his face. Loz kisses the soft inner part of my thighs and then nuzzles me through the panties I'm wearing, breathing in my scent. When he exhales I can feel his warm breath through the lavender lace and I squirm, wanting his mouth on me now. I'm thankful that Shandi made me wear a short skirt tonight because if I was wearing jeans like I originally intended this whole exercise would have been very cumbersome. As it is, all Loz has to do is pull my panties aside but as he does so, he pulls a little too hard and they rip right off me, the flimsy pastel purple fabric coming apart at the seams on my hips. He stares at the shredded underwear in his large hand, plainly unused to touching delicate, lacy garments.

"Oops," he utters, sounding astonished. "How'd that happen?"

"Who cares?" I say, laughing at his dumbfounded expression. "Toss 'em and keep going, Macho Man."

He shrugs and tosses the ruined panties over his shoulder. They land straight in the bin. He didn't even look! I'm about to ask him how the hell he managed to do that but am sidetracked by the feel of him kissing me on my mons - the softly swelling mound right over my pelvic bone, his nose in amongst my brunette fluff. I hold my breath as he moves his lips down my secret valley, giving me tiny little kisses as he goes. When a prodding tongue-tip connects with my intimate flesh, I jerk my hips and curse under my breath, sinking my fingers into Loz's hair and pulling him closer, wanting more, more, more. It's been that long since I've had this done to me, I almost forgot how intensely personal it is and how intensely erotic and luscious it feels. I like being touched with fingers but there's something about a wet, hot mouth on my own wet, hot bits that triples the pleasure, each moment of contact magnified and every nerve ultra-receptive. I believe this is about the best way a man can please a lady and Loz proceeds to do his gender proud, licking me up, down and sideways with a very agile, and might I add very lengthy, tongue. He throws in a bit of nibbling and a little bit of sucking on various parts of my girl-anatomy while I let my head drop back against the wall in eye-rolling bliss, combing through his hair as he works. The silver strands are thick and soft under my fingers and not stiff with gel like I thought they would be. His style seems to stay up in that sweeping curl all on its own, like it got blown back in the wind while Loz was roaring around on his motorcycle and decided to remain that way, disregarding the rules of physics completely. It's so cool. The only person with hair almost cooler than this is that pony-tailed redhead Loz exchanged words with before. Despite the attitude, I gotta admit he's cute. He's cuter than a basket full of kittens but he's just a cocky, wise-cracking boy and at this stage of my life I don't need a boy. I need somebody virile and powerful, somebody who can take charge and own me, somebody who can rock my world hard and leave me spent and trembling with the strength of their desire. I need somebody who can completely satisfy me.

I need a man.

And it looks like I have one. Kadaj said he could make me weak at the knees just by using his mouth but it seems he isn't the only one in the family with that talent. If Loz wasn't holding me up, I would so not be able to stand right now. His probing tongue sweeps along me, investigates inside me, circles around my clit, searchingly and hungrily. When some guys do this, you can tell they're not really into it, that they're only doing it so you'll let them fuck you. They do it half-heartedly and stop as soon as they can move onto something else that's better for them. But with Loz, it's obvious he actually really likes this, evidenced by the way he's groaning in his throat and the enthusiasm he's showing, the way he presses his face closer against me, pushes his tongue as far in me as he can. It's like he wants to explore all of me, taste all of me, lick up all my juices but he can't because the more he licks and probes and flicks, the more they keep flowing. I don't think I've ever been so slippery and soaked before, my clear fluids smeared all over Loz's lower jaw and my own inner thighs. I could orgasm within seconds but I don't let myself go, not ready to come yet. Not this way.

I want to come with his cock in me.

"Okay. Stop," I say in a breathless tone, tugging on the back of his hair. "I'm warmed up now."

He shrugs my thighs off his shoulders and lets me slide back down the front of his body until my legs are circling his waist and his hips are level with mine. My back is still against the wall, the tiles cold on my skin through the thin layer of my halter-top. Loz wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, pushes my skirt up around my hips and starts to position himself.

Before he gets too carried away, I push against his belly. "Forgetting something?"

"Oh. Right," he recalls, retrieving the hard-won condom from his pocket with one hand and tearing the packet open with his teeth.

As he's starting to roll the sheath onto himself, I say apologetically, "I know you probably don't like wearing them but unless you feel like celebrating Father's Day next year, you kind of have to."

"Yeah. It's cool. I get it," he replies with a one-shouldered shrug, looking down at what he's doing. "I don't want any brats either."

Making sure the rubber ring at the base of the condom is securely tight on his own base, he looks back up at me, eyes glittering with sudden green flames.

"But I want /you/," he proclaims possessively. "I've wanted you all damn night, Catalina."

Hearing him say my whole name turns me on like I wouldn't have believed. I don't normally let anyone call me that as it sounds so old-fashioned, but hell, he can. Especially in that voice; all deep and growling like a predatory jungle-creature. He kind of looks like one too. His pupils are so contracted and thin they are nearly invisible. Most people's pupils dilate wider when they're sexually aroused. It appears that his go the reverse way and realising how much he burns for me makes me burn for him just as hotly.

"Want you too, Loz. All of you," I reply urgently, my heart pounding as I spread my thighs further apart for him, letting him know that I'm ready. I'm still not sure if I can take that monster-cock in one go but I'm willing to try. Also more than willing to give it a shot, Loz wraps his hand around his own width, guiding it down between my legs until the end of him is nudging my entrance. I expect him to push right in, eager to get down to business after wasting so much time preparing me but he doesn't. His tip slips inside easily but as he gets wider and starts to stretch me he takes it slower, rocking into me one bit at a time, allowing my intimate walls to accommodate his thick intrusion. Understanding how large he is, my body automatically wants to tense up, particularly when a dull, cramping pain begins deep in my tummy, but I inhale slow, regular breaths, keeping myself as relaxed as I can for him, knowing any discomfort I'm feeling won't last long. As if he knows what I'm experiencing, Loz is extra-careful with me, trying very, very hard to be gentle.

"Don't wanna hurt you, little girl," he whispers, his tall figure shaking with the effort of restraining himself. "Please tell me if I am."

"You're not," I assure him, only lying a tiny bit, biting my lip as he rocks forward again, that dull cramp sharpening. He's the biggest dude I've had so far but I know that once he's in, I'll be fine. I probably shouldn't have picked someone hung like a stallion to have sex with after months of abstinence but shit, I didn't know he was gonna be this big. Usually it's believed that guys with huge muscles aren't huge in the groinage area but Loz tramples all over that general assumption with his formidable man-missile. When he's three-quarters of the way there, I get him to halt by shoving on his chiselled chest.

"Just stop for a sec," I urge. "Let me get used to you. Please."

Nodding, he gives me as much time as I need, just standing there and supporting me, his hands around my middle. With him still partially inside me, I start swivelling my hips from side to side, much the same as one of my belly dance moves, just to try and open myself up a bit more for him. He groans when I do this and lets his head drop down to my shoulder. I tighten my legs around his waist and change the direction of my undulation, rolling my pelvis back and forth, pushing further onto him and then shallowly sliding away. It seems this second motion is too much for him to handle as he grits out some curse about his mother and then grabs my hips with both hands, keeping me still while he shoves all the way into me, right up to his wide hilt.

A sharp wave of pain rushes through me at the abrupt impalement but is immediately washed away by a much stronger wave of sparks and I jolt against him, gasping with the electrifying sensation.

"Fuck!"

Hearing that, he instantly freezes, eyes filling with panic.

"No, don't stop," I hurriedly say at his almost terrified look. "I meant that in a good way."

"Are you sure? That sounded like it hurt. Did it hurt?"

"Okay, it did a little bit," I admit, "but it's gone now. Like I said, it's been a /very/ long time since I've done this." I glance down at the broad base of his shaft, just visible through the brown fleece between my thighs, his silver curls meshing with my much darker ones.

"Plus, you're friggin' gigantic."

He lowers his gaze in guilt. "Sorry."

"You kidding me? Don't apologise for having a big dick. You're every woman's fantasy."

"Not every woman's," he mumbles, clearly remembering some unpleasant experience from the past.

"Well, you're mine. Besides, I wanted that big dick in me." I look at where we are joined again and then smirk back up at him. "Now it is."

Brows still knitted in worry, he asks again, "You sure it don't hurt anymore?"

"Positive."

I roll my hips against his, feeling every inch of him inside me, filling me so wholly and thoroughly, the pleasurably stretched sensation of fullness causing me to moan huskily. Realising that I'm not moaning in pain, Loz withdraws and pushes back in, slowly, trembling for a different reason now. I can feel his body temperature rising rapidly, a glistening sheen of sweat beginning on his brow and in the centre of his chest.

"So tight," he mutters, shuddering as he sinks into me again. "You're so damn tight, babygirl..."

The way he reacts to the feel of my body is so strongly responsive, it's like he's not even wearing a condom at all. It's a good thing he does have one on or he probably would have erupted the moment he first slid in and this would be over already. The latex membrane is numbing his nerves, helping him to keep command of himself and I'm sure it's not just me who's thankful for that. He starts to build up a rhythm, pushing in quickly, pulling out slowly; in…out, in…out – both movements delicious in the extreme, making me gasp on the in-stroke and groan on the out. I'm not worried about anyone outside the bathroom hearing us as the music the DJ is playing inside the club is loud enough to cover any sex-noises we might make in here. And I'm making plenty of them. Each stroke in that Loz gives me literally produces tingles, beginning from the bottom of my spine and rushing up through the back of my neck and into my jaw. I can penetrate myself with a vibrator at home as much as I want but it still doesn't feel like this. Nothing feels like getting screwed by a real man with a real cock. Even though he's being careful I can feel the strength and power behind every one of Loz's thrusts; I can feel his muscles rippling and tensing every time he presses me into the wall. He's not making as much noise as me but I know by the way his breath hitches and holds before escaping in a shuddery rush that he's enjoying it the same, the sound of his pleasure almost more important than my own.

"Mmm, yeah. That's it, honey. Make us both feel good," I coach in a low, sex-saturated tone. Loz picks up the pace the more I encourage him, starting to fuck me faster and deeper. He's sweating more now, clear moisture gathering into trickles that roll down his temples and seep into his sideburns, larger droplets coursing along the middle of his chest, down his abdominal section and dripping into his bellybutton. I'm getting sweaty too, feeling dampness collecting between my breasts, under my knees and on the small of my back, our escalating desire bringing our bodies up to a few degrees short of total meltdown.

My head spinning in heated intoxication, I lean forward into his opened jacket and lick along the centre of his chest just like I wanted to earlier, the tang of his sweat sharp on my tastebuds. I wonder if he likes his nipples being licked so I flick my tongue over one of the pale pink circles, discovering that yes, he does like that, if his hoarse moan is anything to go by. I lay moist, messy kisses up over his collarbones and Adam's apple, licking and nipping at him, crazy for the feel and flavour of his smooth, salty skin. I nibble under his chin and along his jaw, our lips meeting and parting, our tongues joining together just as intimately as our hips are.

When I reach my right hand between my own thighs to touch myself, Loz glances down in surprise, his expression changing to one of anxiousness as he looks back at me.

"You're not doing anything wrong," I promise him. "It's just something I have to do."

Climaxing from thrusting alone… Not a feat I've ever been able to accomplish. Contrary to what women's magazines say, I don't have a G-spot. There's no magic button inside there. Believe me, I've looked for it. THIS is my only G-spot. It works brilliantly and I can even have multiple orgasms if I keep rubbing it but my only complaint is that it's all the way up here and not down there where the real action is. If there was such a thing as clitoris relocation surgery, I'd be booking my appointment in tomorrow.

"You feel so great and you're doing everything right but I just can't come if I don't do this," I tell Loz remorsefully. "Don't take it personally, darlin'."

"It's okay," he replies in understanding, offering hesitantly, "I can do that for you if…if you want."

"That'd be nice. Here. Like this." I take his hand and position it so that his palm and fingers are across my upper thigh, leaving his thumb free to do the work, much like manipulating the toggle-button on a joystick. I hiss as he accidentally applies too much pressure.

"Not so hard. It's very, very sensitive," I caution him, lifting his wrist. When he lightens his touch and begins circling his thumb-pad in a much gentler fashion, I let him know with a throaty moan. "Yeah. Ah, yeah…that's perfect, baby."

I enjoy his sensual attentiveness for a couple of minutes before I grab him by the face and yank him down to me so we can tangle tongues again. This is something I've never done before, and never thought I would do, but here I am being fucked against a public restroom wall by a man I only met a couple of hours ago, tasting the musk of my own feminine essence in his mouth as we are kissing. I know I'm only doing this because I'm drunk off my ass but screw modesty and manners. This is bad behaviour and I love every moment of it.

Tearing my lips away from his I moan loudly, cupping my breasts with both hands and squeezing my nipples to enhance my own arousal, Loz hazily watching me stimulate myself as he slides his huge dick into me over and over again. As I get more and more excited, my hips start to thrust against his so that he's not just fucking me; we're fucking each other.

"Cate, I can't," he soon warns me tightly. "I'm gonna…"

"Me too," I pant, needily pulling him closer. "Rub harder now."

His motions turn shallow as he concentrates on my impending climax, grinding his pelvis into me rather than thrusting, most of his attention focused on rubbing my clit the right way, the pad of his thumb moving in firm clockwise circles. As soon as he starts doing that, I feel all my insides heating and liquefying, the strangely weak feeling spreading down my legs and making my whole body go slack and boneless for just a few seconds, my breath caught in suspenseful stillness. Then I suddenly snap back into rigidness, my legs clamping tight around his waist and stomach stiffening as unspeakable ecstasy grips me in its vice.

"Yes," I call out breathily, beginning to clench rhythmically around his deeply-embedded thickness. "Oh, yes…Oh, Gods. Ohhh…"

Bucking reactively against Loz, I ride out my release with eyes squeezed shut, my forehead pressed to his shoulder-armour and my fingernails digging into his arms. Thrilling throbs of sexual energy pass through me, so intense and gripping I can't breathe, can't think about anything except how incredible it feels; can't utter anything else except short staccato gasps while he brings me to the longest and strongest orgasm I've ever experienced in my life.

Eventually, the last pulses of sensation quiver through my core and I cover his hand with my own, stopping him and gently pushing him away as I'm too sensitive to touch there now. Then I lean back against the wall, panting quietly, over-stimulated nerves twitching sporadically as my body weakens in the aftermath of climax.

Sounding unsure, he questions, "Did you…go?"

"Like firecrackers," I reply in affirmation, lazily lifting my head off the tiles to look at him. "Did you?"

"Not yet. I wanted to make sure you went first," he confesses. "Was it okay?"

Touched that he waited for me and put my fulfilment first before his, I curl my hand around the back of his neck and pull him in for a rewarding kiss.

"More than okay," I say, murmuring against his mouth. "It was un-fucking-believable."

"Good. Great," he says, sounding relieved that he performed his duty as a man properly. I kiss him again and when he kisses me back I can feel the urgent insistency in it, the unreleased pressure inside him that's about to explode like an aerosol can tossed into a campfire.

"Your turn now," I whisper. "C'mon, biker boy." I buck my hips against him once in enticement, making him suck in a hissing breath as he slides further into my slick snugness.

"Let me hear you come for me, Loz."

Given permission to let go of his control he grips the back of my thighs, gives two preliminary thrusts and then slams as hard and as far in me as he can go, my relaxed state making it easy for him to do so, Loz crushing me against the wall with his bulkier build. His already hardened belly-muscles solidify to a stone-solid six-pack, his entire body tautening as he spends his pent-up tensions within me, his groaning rumbling into my ear. He groans my name, his mother's name, the planet's name, every word resonating with desperate pleasure. It sounds like he's really needed this, like he hasn't had this kind of relief for a very long time.

I hug him with both arms while he trembles against me; my new lover breathing harshly against my neck, sweat dripping from his brow onto my bare shoulder. I can feel his pulse throbbing under his skin like an electric beat, like the rave-songs that still play outside in the club. Even though it's all over now I keep my legs locked around his waist, allowing him to stay as deep as he wants for as long as he wants; allowing him to relish our closeness and the newfound connection we have formed with our lovemaking. I let him stay inside me, to savour my warm softness and take comfort in the caring embrace of a woman, something it seems he hasn't been given anytime recently and has missed a great deal. If it makes him feel less lonely and gives him even a little bit of happiness, I will hold him like this all night.

As Yazoo told me, I think Loz deserves it.


	8. Club Chaos

Yes, you read right! It's a BRAND NEW CHAPTER OF LEGACY!!!!

Rina bringz you new Lozzie hotness!

*runs from all the hysterical screaming and glomping*

Gods, it's taken me like, forever to update this fic, I know. Almost 9 months. . I'm incredibly sorry for making you wait so awfully long but I had other things to do first and was really lacking in motivation to continue. Now that those other things are done and I'm on holidays from work (which really takes up most of my life, unfortunately) I finally had the time to sit down in front of my computer and get reacquainted with Cate and Loz (and the other bros) in this alternate world I've created for them.

Before I go any further I would like to take a moment to thank the following people for their lovely, inspiring, thoughtful, appreciative, supportive and encouraging reviews and comments:

K.B

Psycho Babble

Shiva Rajah

Jessie

Soul Of Doom

Murtaghgirl

Silent Doll

hunewearl

IA1979

AlexJ69

Skreech

Yukiko

Chance

Brainfear

Deviousfairie

(Goodness, I DO have a lot of reviewers, don't I? *feels lucky*)

Thank you, every single one of you, for loving the FF7 boys, especially Loz, and for embracing my OC Cate (which I know was a huge gamble). Thank you for telling me in such wonderful terms how how human and real she seems to you, and how much you enjoyed the M/F sex. This means a LOT to me as I know most of you are firm yaoi lovers and loathe Mary Sues with a passion so I am thrilled beyond belief that you do not think this story falls into that category.

But most of all I must thank my dear BMIK (schwaerze) and natzilla for pushing me to continue and generally just poking me with a stick every now and again and not letting me forget this fic. Yes, I saw your comments on lj, girls! ;) Thank you so much. This chapter is just for you (and everyone else above).

LOVE YOU GUYS!!!! ^__^

Part 8. Club Chaos

Uncounted and unimportant minutes pass while Loz are I are holding each other, his big muscular body still pressing me to the bathroom tiles, only not as crushingly now. It feels so wonderful to be held like this, to be surrounded by his heat and musky, masculine scent – a mixture of leather, aftershave lotion and motorcycle exhaust fumes. His solid male presence makes me feel safe and protected, his arms gentle yet strong around me, his face in the crook of my shoulder, his breath brushing intimately and warmly over my skin. He's still deep inside me, although I can feel him softening, starting to wilt and slowly slip from between my thighs; the nerves in my legs throbbing with the after-effects of our intense climaxes. Though my mind is cloudy with relaxed bliss, it suddenly hits me what I've just done. Something I said I wouldn't do, and honestly hadn't planned on ever doing.

I've just had sex in a nightclub restroom.

Up against a wall.

With a guy whose last name I don't even know.

And I loved it.

Not only did he give me the best orgasm of my life, I actually touched myself in front of him – a thing I rarely do in full view of another guy, not unless I know him really well. I usually do that in the dark where nobody can see me but it's not dark in here and Loz saw everything. Though I have a lot of issues and insecurities about my body, I didn't try to hide from him. I wanted him to look at me, to admire me, to see how much fun I was having and how good he was making me feel. I've never acted so wantonly before, so shamelessly indecent and promiscuous but then again, I've never been with a man like Loz before; so large and looming with immense power, yet filled with deep passion, emotion, tenderness and hunger. He's awakened a part of me that's always been there but never fully been released; a carnal appetite and freedom previously quashed down and made dormant by depression, shame and self-guilt, and he's allowed me to express it without judging me or making me feel less of a person. If anything, being with him makes me feel more like who I am meant to be; a desirable, sensual woman who deserves to be loved and pleasured and who loves to give pleasure in return. Being with Loz makes me feel alive in a way I haven't felt before, my whole body buzzing and humming and vibrating, like the Life Stream has surged out of the planet's centre and is flowing through my veins, energising and empowering me.

"Oh, great Goddess of Gaia," I sigh dizzily, still on an exhilarated high. "That was so good."

I know guys don't feel like making a lot of conversation after sexual intercourse due to all the blood being drained from their brains, but I expect Loz to at least mumble something about it being good for him too. Or at least grunt in agreement. What I don't expect is when he gives a sudden strange muffled noise, something that's not perspiration landing on me and trickling down my upper arm. He starts to shake, as if trying desperately to hold something in.

I know that sound, I realise with a shock. That sound was a sob.

My Gods. He's crying!

"Hey." I frown, trying to look at his face but he buries it in the side of my throat, hiding from me. "Hey, honey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he chokes out, sniffling into my neck. "It's just…you're so nice…And I really like you. And I don't want this to be over."

My chest begins to ache at his sad, innocent tone. He sounds like a little boy. Stroking the back of his head I say softly, "I really like you too, sweetie," while thinking that he must have drank way too much of that moonshine shit and turned overly sentimental. Yazoo said he was sensitive but c'mon, he can't be THAT emotionally fragile.

Or can he?

Maybe this /is/ how he is normally. Maybe he does wear his heart on his jacket sleeve but only those close to him get to see it. Maybe that snarly toughness he shows to everyone else is just a front, to hide how soft he actually is inside. I don't know him well enough to be sure. Either way, this is the first time I've seen a guy cry after sex and it makes me feel all tender and maternal towards him, like I want to comfort and protect him which is dumb because he certainly doesn't need protecting from anything. He's a freaking hit man, for heaven's sakes. He probably knows a hundred different ways to kill somebody.

But still, I somehow sense that he needs comforting so I continue to stroke his hair and the nape of his neck, soothing him until his sobs die down and he stops shaking.

"You all right now?" I enquire carefully.

He nods against me, miserably mumbling, "Sorry. Didn't mean to bawl all over you."

"It's okay. These things happen sometimes," I reply understandingly, placing a kiss on the crown of his head.

"See? You ARE nice." He sniffs again. "Other chicks would be laughing so hard at me right now."

"Well, I'm not other chicks," I remind him, wishing I could meet the ones who did laugh so I could punch them all square in the fucking mouth for their insensitivity. "I'd never make fun of you like that, Loz. Ever."

He still won't show me his face so I say light-heartedly, "And who says this has to be over, huh? Do you see me leaving yet?"

"No," he admits in a mutter.

"Well, then. What are you sad about? Hmm?"

He rubs his cheek on my shoulder and finally glances back up at me, his dark lashes still moist and slightly sticking together into points. Apart from that, you couldn't even tell he was crying. His eyes haven't gone red or puffy like mine do after a big bawling session and there's no trace of skin-blotchiness or patchiness. He still looks picture perfect.

Genetically-blessed bastard.

I cup his face and brush away a lingering tear-trail with the pad of my thumb. "Feelin' better, big guy?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." He gives a sheepish shrug. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"And thanks for this too," he adds with a squeeze to my thigh, meaning the hot, drunken wall-sex we just had. "Damn, girly. That was pretty friggin' awesome."

"/You're/ pretty friggin' awesome." I smirk deviously at him. "In fact, you're so awesome, I think I'm gonna have problems walking tomorrow."

"Sorry," he says again but he's grinning now, seemingly back to a happier mood.

"You are not," I tease, slinging my arms around his neck and placing a kiss on the cute tip of his nose.

"Okay. I'm not really." He tentatively indicates to where we are still joined. "Are you right if I…?"

"Sure," I reply, hanging onto him as he begins to slide out, Loz holding the base of the condom so it doesn't slip off. Feeling him withdrawing from me emphasises once again how particularly well-endowed he is as it seems to take forever for him to get to the very end. He's being cautious and I only wince a little bit. There's a definite soreness left behind but it's a welcome soreness and one that I will remember fondly when I wake up in the morning. I uncurl my legs from around him and unsteadily stand up, letting go of his neck and pulling my skirt down. Since he tore my underwear in half I'm gonna have to go back into the club without it but that can be our little secret. I'll just have to make sure I don't bend over in front of anyone. I'm even gladder that he used a condom or I'd have a lot of gooey stuff running down the inside of my thigh right about now. Fortunately for me, all that goo is safely contained in the protective rubber sheath and Loz, his hand bashfully covering his privates, goes over to the rubbish receptacle and takes it off, wrapping the used prophylactic in a paper towel before scrunching the lot up and disposing of it.

As he's fixing his pants, I readjust my bra and straighten my top, going over to the basin and peering in the mirror above it. My cheeks are pink, my lips are swollen and red from kissing and my chest and neck are mottled with an orgasm-flush. It looks like I've had a very thorough, satisfying fuck. Which I have.

"Aw shit," I exclaim, grabbing at one empty earlobe. "I've lost an earring."

I search the floor for the dangly silver piece of jewellery but can't see it anywhere. I must have lost it in the main area of the club, maybe while I was dancing.

"Was it valuable?" Loz asks in concern. "I can help you look for it."

"Nah, it's okay." I shake my head. "It's only cheap costume jewellery. I can't afford the real stuff. Being a florist isn't exactly a high-paying job."

I walk over to the toilet and hesitate. "Turn around so I can pee."

Loz raises one slanted eyebrow at me. "I already saw what you got down there."

"Well, you haven't seen me peeing and you're not going to," I return obstinately. "Turn around. And run the water in the sink so you can't hear me."

He shrugs and does what I ask, presenting me with his back and turning the handle of the faucet above one of the many basins, letting water gush down the drain noisily.

"No looking at me in the mirror, either," I warn him as I scrunch my skirt up to my hips and perch gingerly on the cold stainless steel rim, keeping a wary eye on him to make sure he doesn't sneak a peek.

He chuckles deeply, clearly finding my prudishness amusing. "Don't worry. I'm not lookin'."

While I'm emptying my bladder, he goes over to one of the other mirrors – away from my reflection – and checks out his hair, sliding his palms over the sweeping silver style and tidying a few strands that have been messed up by me running my fingers through it. It still looks pretty darn resistant to the effects of gravity, considering how sweaty and hot he got during our coupling. It ought to be flat and lifeless by now but it's still full of body, the back curling up like the pointy end of an elf's boot.

"How the heck does your hair stay up like that?" I ask, tearing off a length of toilet paper.

"Dunno." He lifts a shoulder casually, smoothing down his sideburns. "Just does."

"It's cool. And I like your sidies. Not many guys can carry off facial hair like that but it really suits you. It's like, all manly and stuff. You're a real good lookin' dude, y'know."

"Thanks." He sounds flattered, even though I'm rambling like a fool. I'm still under the effects of all those cocktails, yet pleasantly so. As I'm sitting there the room is spinning slightly, or at least my head is anyway. However, I feel quite healthy and can still walk in a straight line so I'm not overly intoxicated. Just drunk enough to be happy.

I finish up on the loo, pull my skirt back down and flush. I go over to the running faucet to wash my hands while Loz finally turns back around, leaning against the vanity top with both hands on the edge, watching me with lazy, sex-satisfied emerald eyes.

"Hey, Loz? You know what I said before to that red-haired guy, about letting you off the leash? I totally didn't mean to imply that you were my dog or that I own you or control you or anything. I so didn't mean it like that," I explain anxiously, wiping my fingers on a paper towel. "I know it was none of my business and I probably should have kept my mouth shut but I just wanted him to go away and leave us alone."

"Ah, it's all right," he replies blithely and unconcernedly. "I wasn't offended. I knew what you meant."

"He's really annoying, isn't he?"

"Yeah." He rolls his eyes. "Tell me about it. I was this close to smashing his big stupid head open."

"I sensed that. Thanks for not doing it."

He stares at me, that intense almost-frown on his face. "It wasn't you, Cate."

I blink at him in bewilderment.

"What you said made me think more about what I was gonna do but you didn't stop me. I stopped me," he points out. "I was the one who decided not to fight. Believe me, when I want to hurt someone, I don't let anyone or anything get in my way. If I really wanted to kill that Turk, I would have. And nothing you could have said or done would have made a damn difference."

"Oh," I mumble, suddenly not feeling so special anymore. "So you didn't do it for me, then."

"Well, that's not entirely true," he concedes in that deep drawl. "I just thought about what would be more fun: slamming him into the wall…or slamming YOU."

Then he grins mischievously, showing that wicked sense of playfulness which I find so irresistibly appealing and soon I'm grinning too.

"You're a very bad boy, Loz." I sidle up to him with a smirk. "And I love bad boys."

"You do, huh?"

"Mm. Especially when they're big and strong and handsome like you," I coo, trailing a flirty fingertip across his chiselled jaw.

He's almost blushing. It's too cute.

"What's your number?" I ask, bringing my purple cell-phone out of my skirt-pocket and scrolling through the menu to the contact list. "I'll add you."

"Uh, hang on. I'll have to check. I forget," he admits, taking out his phone as well and flipping it open. "I never have to call myself."

When he finds his number, he reads it out and I type it into my keypad, storing it for future use.

"Am I ever gonna see you again after tonight?" He re-pockets his phone, sounding doubtful. "Because every time I give a girl my number, she never calls me."

"They have no idea what they're missing out on," I murmur, running my hand down the centre of his fantastic chest. "Don't worry. I'll definitely be calling you and coming back for more of this."

Before he gets the idea that I'm only interested in his body, I look up into his beautiful blue-green eyes and smile before standing on tip-toes and kissing him sweetly on the mouth. "And this."

He starts to kiss me back and then abruptly pulls away, avoiding my gaze. "Tell me you're not."

"Not what?" I query in confusion.

"Messing with me." He tentatively peers back up. "If you don't wanna do this again, it's okay. I get it. Just say so and I'll leave you alone. But don't mess with me and say things you don't mean. Don't do that to me. Please."

He's gazing at me in fearful apprehensiveness and all of a sudden I realise that in spite of his outer toughness I actually could wound him very deeply if I'm not careful so I reply gently, "I'm not messing with you, Loz. I'm not going to hurt you or lie to you. That's the last thing I'd ever do."

"You swear?"

"I swear. I don't normally do this with someone I've just met so the fact that I did means something, all right?" I cup his jaw with one hand and softly caress his cheek. "It means that I feel something for you and I want to see you again."

He still looks slightly sceptical.

"Didn't I say back at the bar that we were gonna be dating buddies?"

He nods at my reminder.

"Well, I meant that, Loz. Only next time, you better take me somewhere nicer than a strip club. Or I'll kick your ass." I fix him with a mock-stern glare. "All right?"

Smiling, he nods again, believing me now. "Anywhere you want to go, babygirl." He takes my hand and kisses it. "You name it. I'll take you there."

Suddenly, he glances over toward the door, his smile fading.

"Shit," he curses, quickly dropping my hand and beginning to refasten all his zips, straps and buckles.

"What?" I ask, shooting a quizzical glance at the doorway, having heard nothing out of the ordinary outside. That guy hasn't even knocked again, not since Loz yelled at him.

"My brothers are in trouble."

I stare at him. "How do you know that?"

"I just do."

Fully dressed again, Loz pulls on his gloves, his face settling into a serious, grim expression. He unlocks the bathroom door and opens it, the music getting louder. There are people in the hallway but nobody waiting by this door. I follow him in mounting puzzlement as he strides determinedly up the stairs, towards the main area of the club.

"Loz?" I question uncertainly. "What's going on?"

"Stay back, all right?" He turns to give me a warning glance. "It's probably gonna get messy."

As we head past the bar and cut through the crowd, I see Kadaj and Yazoo in the middle of it, standing with the blue-eyed redhead and his pal, a dark-skinned bald guy in shades, the four of them facing each other challengingly and hostilely.

"Turks," Loz spits out, looking like he's got a sour taste in his mouth.

I stop right where I am, watching the scene unfold with an escalating sense of dread.

They're gonna fight. I've been around boys long enough to recognise the signs. Yazoo is standing there with a slight mocking smile on his pale lips, silver head tilted to the side expectantly. Kadaj is glaring straight ahead, his slitted green gaze gleaming viciously through the razored layers of his hair.

Even though he should be, the smart-mouthed dude with the red rat-tail and the goggles doesn't look scared of Kadaj in the least. Or of Yazoo. In fact it looks like he wants to sever their heads and mop the grimy floor with their hair. The bald one in the suit and tie is staring at Yazoo expressionlessly and wordlessly, like a rock wall with sunglasses. He's built huge, like Loz, and he's not intimidated by these cat-eyed assassins either. When Loz stalks up and towers protectively beside Kadaj, the redhead grins tauntingly and makes some sarcastic remark I can't hear over the music but it has the same effect as before and Loz's metaphorical hackles go up. He gets into a fighting stance, broad shoulders lowered, both gloved fists raised, glowering venomously at the goggle-wearing guy, keen to finish what he didn't get to in the corridor. Unlike then, I don't step in and interrupt. I don't dare. The testosterone is oozing out of not just Loz but all five of them so strongly I can almost smell it and if I tried to get in the middle of this, I'd get torn apart like a piece of meat amongst a pack of wild wolves.

Sorry, Ponytail, I think with a wince, imagining what's shortly about to happen to him. You're on your own this time.

Red-Boy says something else smart, tapping his head as if making fun of Loz's intellect and I can see Loz growling from here, his muscle-bound body stiffening with rage. He glances to Kadaj and the younger male gives a short nod. That must be the signal Loz was waiting for because from that point afterwards, the fight is fucking on.

Loz goes straight for the redhead. Yazoo and the bald guy attack each other while Kadaj waits and watches, letting his two older siblings battle first. I wasn't sure if the skinny pony-tailed dude could hold his own against someone bigger and stronger like Loz but surprisingly, he can, the tattooed flame-head ducking and blocking Loz's heavily-thrown punches, swung elbows and lifted knees. For a larger man, Loz can move astonishingly rapidly, as can Yazoo, who seems made of smoke or like he's got wings – he's that light and flighty, appearing to hover in the air for an unnaturally long time. The bald guy – who is also a formidable fighter - somehow manages to hit Yazoo with a solid punch, sending the slimmer male sprawling back into the crowd, which has gathered around to watch the entertainment. Yazoo goes soaring backwards into them, knocking a couple of men over in the process.

Kadaj evidently doesn't like his brother being harmed because he lunges at the dark-skinned male, rudely smacking his sunglasses off and crunching them to splinters beneath his boot. Bald guy scowls in irritation, cracks his neck with a couple of sideways jerks of his head, slips on a fresh pair on shades (kept in his suit jacket pocket) and then lunges back with teeth bared.

The people that Yazoo fell on are now riled up and enraged and they bloodthirstily join forces, trying to get at Yazoo and beat him up because he looks like the easiest target, being so slim and feminine in appearance.

They fail.

Those men - and a couple of big butch angry lesbians - soon find out that they've sorely misjudged Yazoo, the graceful young man taking them all down with a rapid-fire succession of elegantly performed hits, leaps and head-high kicks, the split in his black coat allowing him to get his leg up that far, like a ballet-dancer, his long silky hair swirling and shimmering around him as he turns and strikes. Coolly dispatching his attackers one after the other, Yazoo leaves them slumped on the floor, bleeding and battered. One guy tries to jam a broken glass into Yazoo's face, to make him not so pretty anymore, and I gasp in fear for him but Yazoo notices in time and spins aside. As he does so the lengthy hem of his dress-coat whirls out and the other male's downward slash catches the leather; jagged glass piercing through the article of clothing and dragging all the way to the bottom, resulting in a long rip. Yazoo glances down, a mildly annoyed look crossing his features. He only looks mildly annoyed but I bet for Yazoo that's his highly pissed expression. I am too far back and the din is too loud for me to hear Yazoo speaking but I see his lips move and I swear he says icily, "Look what you've done to my coat," before retaliating by snatching the guy's hand and jabbing it forward, making the unfortunate bastard stab himself in the thigh with his own glass. The guy howls, rivers of crimson pouring out and running down his leg. As if that punishment wasn't enough, Yazoo's boot crashes into the man's lower jaw. I can see it dislocating and shattering from here and I cover my mouth in shock as the guy drops to the floor, out cold.

Yazoo just smiles. Nastily.

Beside him is the third segment of the terrible trio – Kadaj - and I switch my wide-eyed focus to him. He is a lot smaller than the beefy bald man he's duelling but he effortlessly and efficiently disables the dude, Kadaj smashing him to the ground with a couple of powerful well-aimed blows. The bald guy tries to get up but can't, falling back down in a groaning heap, sunglasses still on his nose, which has begun to bleed. I'm staggered by how strong Kadaj is - he's only a kid for Gods' sakes! - and though he just fought someone three times his size he's nowhere near tired yet. Wanting something in his hand, the younger brother swipes up a cue from an abandoned pool table, wielding the wooden stick much as he would his sword, twirling it flashily in his gloved fingers before using it to inflict injury upon anyone within arm's reach, whacking them across the face, over the back or chopping them across the shins, even using the broader end like a hilt and jabbing people in the stomach with it, every motion lightning-fast and viciously accurate. He plays this game until he wears the pool cue out and it snaps in half. Undeterred, Kadaj simply takes the second piece in his other hand and uses them both at once, like separated nunchaku, able to hit twice as many people at the same time now. He skips, dodges and twists his super-fit trim body, the slit bottoms of his pants flaring out as he drops and circles, sweeping his leg out to trip people before knocking them unconscious with a sharp blow to the head. One of the guys he knocked down tries to crawl away but Kadaj grabs his arm and mercilessly yanks it back, pulling it out of its socket, thereby preventing him from going anywhere in a hurry. The guy passes out in pain.

Starting to feel sicker and sicker, I glance back to Loz and the redhead. While they're trading blows Loz gets hit in the jaw and briefly staggers back – dazed - but he speedily recovers and flashes forward to attain his vengeance, slamming his knee into the smaller male's stomach, doubling him over, and then crashing his fists down on the redhead's back, flooring him. Ponytail's fine face smacks into the floorboards and when he dizzily lifts it, I can see blood trickling from his busted lip, dripping down his chin. He pushes at the floor with shaking arms but is incapable of getting up, instead weakly reaching out to his shaven-headed partner, trying to pull himself over to his wounded friend. I blink, wondering if my eyes are lying to me because I could have sworn I saw a blue streak of light behind Loz as he charged forward. I soon discover that no, it's not my eyesight because he does it again when he attacks some random dude in the crowd, the bulky hit-man flashing from one place to another in an impossible instant, that eerie glow trailing him like an electrical field. It's definitely not the disco-lights. It's coming from his body, like some sort of bioluminescence. I stand there with an open mouth, unable to believe what I'm seeing yet unable to look away either.

Apparently not noticing this disturbing teleporting thing that Loz is doing, the hat-wearing cowboy that grabbed my ass earlier – along with his redneck buddies - decide to get their revenge on Loz. Fuelled by beer and bravado, the mob angrily charges into the fight and confronts him.

Bad idea.

Very, very bad idea.

As Cowboy swings his first clumsy punch Loz stops it with one sturdy arm, grabbing the other guy's fist and prying it open, bending all four fingers back in one crunching motion, breaking them all at once. Cowboy gives a high-pitched shriek and stumbles backwards, clutching his wrist. One of his buddies tries to defend him but Loz kicks out with the flat sole of his boot, popping the man's knee out of its joint. The man looks down dumbly, his leg now bent back at an abnormal angle, and he topples to the floor, screeching above the music, Loz sneering at him in disgust.

I divide my shocked stare between him, Yazoo and Kadaj, trying to watch them all at once. Loz moves like a space-bending sledgehammer, Yazoo like a fierce floating wraith and Kadaj like a swift and lethal vortex, spinning around and laying waste to everyone unlucky or stupid enough to get caught in his path. I now understand why the doorman insisted on taking their weapons.

They're doing enough damage without them.

All the girls in the club - and the boys who sensibly don't want to get involved - are staying as far back as they can, pressed against walls or hiding behind columns and potted plants, peeking around the corners to witness the carnage, mixed looks of horror and perverse exhilaration on their faces. The DJ has left his booth for safety reasons but his record is still playing and over that I can hear screams, shouts and bellows. The strippers have deserted their poles and podiums, fleeing back to the protection of their dressing rooms. There are a couple of security guards up here on this level but they're hopelessly outnumbered and stick to the outer edges of the expanding brawl, attempting to prevent any newcomers from joining in, holding them back with arm-locks and neck-holds but there's too much pumped-up male aggressiveness in the club to stop this violent behaviour from occurring.

As they are triple-handedly rendering most of the club's male occupants comatose, Kadaj has a pleased little smile on his lips, Loz is grinning like a rabid dog and Yazoo is actually giggling. They're having fun hurting people. They're /enjoying/ this. Way too much. I don't know if any of the people on the floor are actually dead but they are totally incapacitated, some of them still moaning and twitching in pain. There are broken bones, puddles of blood and lost teeth galore. The local hospital's emergency room is going to be packed to the rafters tonight.

Curiously, though the red-head and the bald guy have been immobilized and are both attempting to quietly limp away without being noticed, none of the silver-haired brothers inflicts any more injuries upon them, though they could extremely easily, even killing the both of them if they so wished, getting rid of their rivals permanently. Despite the fact that they are all enemies and clearly hate each other, neither Loz, Yazoo nor Kadaj touch the other two any further. It's as though they need those guys alive for some reason and merely humiliating them in combat is enough for now so the black-clad assassins let them go and focus on everyone else there is to hurt.

By now, more and more guys in the crowd are jumping into the clash, turning it from a simple club-scuffle into a full-on bloody battleground, mindlessly assaulting each other and also attempting to attack Yazoo, Kadaj and Loz, since they started the whole thing and nobody seems to be able to defeat them. Things are happening so quickly and the boys are zipping around so fast I can't even see what's going on most of the time but I'm pretty sure they're winning, if the mounting stack of unconscious bodies piling up around them is any indication. I'm frozen in stunned awe, wondering once again what the hell Loz and his brothers really are.

Sometime in the middle of all this gore and mayhem, Yazoo holds up his hand, like he's telling everyone to stop but nobody pays any notice to him. Shadowy mist starts creeping up from the floor in front of him and things that look like giant black dogs emerge from it. Only they're not dogs. They're some sort of unnatural creatures; dark, sinewy and bony, with claws, spurs and long whipping tails. There are four of them. As if hearing unspoken instructions, the creatures begin to charge into the crowd, sending everyone scattering and shrieking. I don't know how it's possible and Gods knows where they came from but somehow Yazoo summoned these things and now he's controlling them. Still holding up his gloved hand, he sends another of his demonic manifestations galloping into the panicked mass, making it a total of five. Smiling in satisfaction, Yazoo lowers his arm and watches the creatures springing forward and attacking the general public, chasing them down and pouncing on them like hounds hunting small, furry mammals.

And yet, people are still fighting each other. It's utter madness.

I gawp around in disbelief, knowing I should run for my life but I'm utterly unable to make my feet move. I feel like I'm dreaming but at the same time I know this is real and it leaves me feeling disoriented and like I'm outside of my body, looking down. As the crowd surges around me, I happen to meet the blue-haired bartender's gaze from behind the counter and we stare at each other for a couple of seconds. Strangely, he doesn't look as shaken as I am. He looks worried and alert but not shocked. It's like he's seen this before. He's staying behind the bar, ducking as glasses, bottles and bits of furniture whiz past overhead, using his work station as a kind of bunker to hide in or fort to protect himself with until it's over. As long as he stays in there, he's relatively safe from the ferocious, unruly horde and the predatory monsters. While I'm stupidly looking at him, wondering if he can tell me what the fuck is going on here, his violet eyes grow huge and afraid and he starts yelling at me but I can't make out what he's saying. He's pointing and gesturing at something, desperate urgency in his face and finally, my brain clicks into gear and I turn to see what he's motioning at.

There's one of those things right beside me.

It's colossal. Like the size of a car. The creature is facing me, crouching as if preparing for a lunge. I freeze in fright, standing there like a statue. I'm looking right into its eyes. Its tail twitches. It slowly lowers its craggy head, nostrils flaring as if sniffing me. I start praying to the Gods in desperation, frantically hoping that if I stand very, very still it will leave me alone. I jump a little when its head swings back up but I stay in the exact same position, thinking that movement will only entice and agitate it. The thing seems to be inspecting me, maybe figuring out if I'd make a good meal or not. I would have peed myself if I hadn't already gone back in the bathroom with Loz. The nameless thing snorts, hot breath blowing into my face, and then it pounces. Too scared to even scream, I cower, my arms covering my head, squeezing my eyes shut and waiting in sheer terror for the feel of teeth tearing my flesh.

It doesn't happen.

I feel a heavy thump on the floor behind me and spin around to see the creature grabbing a man by the leg, starting to drag him off. It didn't touch me. It's like they don't attack women. I catch Yazoo staring at me, just for an instant, and then he swivels to the side, blocking a punch with one strong arm, his long hair fanning in a circular sweep. Amidst all this nightmarish insanity, I see my foster-brother Jaren whirling around in horrified uncertainty. One of the hell-hounds is coming right for him. My protective instincts kick in and I run and stand in front of Jaren, facing the monster. It slows down when it sees me, thin tail flickering indecisively.

"No!" I yell at it in fury, like one might yell at a disobedient puppy. "Get away! Leave him alone!"

The massive beast growls and shakes its bone-plated head in aggravation but it backs off, going after somebody else. I turn to my white-faced foster-brother, his brown eyes large and distraught. He's got no idea what's going on either. I grip his shoulders urgently and shout at him.

"Jaren, get the fuck out of here!"

He starts to leave but then when I'm not following he turns back, confusedly looking at me.

"What about you?" He shouts back, holding out his hand. "Come ON, Cate!"

I shake my head. "I gotta find Shandi first."

"But those things!"

"I'll be okay. They don't want girls." I shove him, hard. "Go now. GO!"

With a last anxious, unsettled glance at me, he bolts, yanking a couple of his college friends along with him on the way. I fretfully scan the room for Shandi, not seeing her anywhere. Maybe she escaped already. Gods, I hope she has and isn't lying trampled on the floor somewhere. As I'm spinning around searching for her trademark black dreadlocks, I see something that stops me dead in my tracks. One of the dog-demons has got somebody in its mouth.

A female.

And not just any female, it's Justine – the girl from the ladies toilets who has a crush on Yazoo. Or used to. She's screaming at Yazoo to save her and he's ignoring her cries, impassively watching her struggling in his creature's jaws like she's just a play-toy. She's crying and reaching out to him and he's not doing anything, just looking at her with this unemotional blank expression. He doesn't care. He's going to let her get eaten. I know Justine called Loz big and ugly but she doesn't deserve to die for it. Nobody deserves this. I want to help her but I don't know how. I can't pull her out of that thing's teeth without tearing her legs off and if I try, it might attack me too.

Why is Yazoo letting this happen? She's just a girl. She didn't do anything!

As I'm staring at the long-haired gunman in helpless horror, I catch his attention, and he looks at me for a timeless few seconds with his head tilted slightly, his eyes no longer beautiful but cold and empty.

"Don't. Please," I whisper, pleading with him to have some compassion and pity for this innocent young woman. I glance at her again and then back at him, beseechingly, tears starting to spill down my face. "Let her go. Yazoo, please!"

He can't hear me over the chaotic bellowing and shouting but I know he understands what I've just said, what I'm begging him to do. For an awful moment I think he's going to dismiss my plea and let Justine get ripped apart right in front of me but then slowly, he raises his arm. Without taking his eyes off me, he lifts his left hand and that particular creature disappears into black smoke, leaving Justine crumpled on the floor, petrified and sobbing, but alive. As I rush worriedly over to her, I look back at Yazoo, grateful for his mercy, but he has already turned away, the slender silver-head joining back into the fight; kicking and striking his male attackers with swift, deadly dexterity.

Reaching Justine's side, I crouch down and assist her to sit up. Her face is streaked with runs of mascara and she's shaking uncontrollably.

"Are you all right?" I ask, raising my voice over the deafening noise of the melee. "You okay? Can you walk?"

She nods jerkily, taking my help to stand, her hands trembling. There are a few cuts on her legs and she's frightened out of her mind, but otherwise she's relatively unhurt. Her high-heeled shoes have fallen off and her feet are bare. There's broken glass all over the floor and she's standing right in some but she doesn't seem to be able to feel it.

"Y-Yazoo," she says stammeringly, her eyes haunted and traumatized. "He…he did this…I saw…"

"I know. But you're safe now." I point to the stairs and yell at her. "Justine, go get your friend Sara and go home. Immediately! Can you do that?"

She nods again, shivering, too scared to even ask how I know her name. With one final terror-filled glance at Yazoo's elegant, dancer-like figure she stumbles away, heading for the exit, too afraid to look for her friend. All she wants to do is get out of here and never come back. I don't believe she will ever think of Yazoo the same way again, not after this, not after seeing what he can do.

I know I won't.

I won't think of any of the boys the same. Especially not Loz. The handsome, gentle man I was beginning to fall in love with is gleefully occupied stomping on someone's ribs like an angry rhino and when he spots me staring at him he freezes, a dismayed expression crossing his face, as if he's only just realised what he must look like to me. He steps back hesitantly. It's seems as though he's about to call out to me but before he can say anything, one of the butch bull-dykes smashes a bar stool across his wide back, turning the seat into splintered firewood. Unhurt, Loz turns to her, batting the masculine woman away in annoyance like she's a mosquito bugging him. She goes flying, taking out four other men when she comes crashing down. The dyke's even meaner girlfriend decides rather unwisely to retaliate, roaring and rushing at Loz with a piece of broken wood in her hand, aiming right for that exposed wedge of his chest, like she's trying to stake a vampire. He lifts an arm and casually stops her with his gloved fist. It doesn't even look like he's trying - it looks more like a tap than a punch - but her whole face caves in around his clenched fingers and when he pulls back, a fountain of blood sprays out from the flattened area where her nose used to be.

Screw this shit. I've seen enough.

Without waiting for Shandi I lurch around and desperately shove my way through the hysterically hyped-up crowd, stumbling down the stairs. Along the way I come across Roscoe the bouncer and his apprentice Tommy, both charging up the steps to join their fellow security guards on the next level and put a stop to the riot.

Good fucking luck with that.

As they're running up to the bloody, brawling mess I'm leaving behind, Roscoe is shouting stern instructions to his rather nervous and understandably scared-looking trainee.

"Just remember, kid – break up whatever fights you can but for Gods' sakes, don't get between Kadaj and his brothers!"

"But aren't they the bad guys?" Tommy yells back in perplexity, attempting to keep pace with his bigger superior.

"Exactly. That's why you don't fuck with them. They WILL hurt you and I can't stop them. Nobody can."

Tommy gulps, turning visibly paler.

Roscoe grins with a feral sort of excitement, slapping the smaller male on the back. "Welcome to the security biz, kiddo…"

After struggling my way through the freaked-out mass of people and getting elbowed hard in the ribs, shoved roughly in the back and my feet stood on, I finally reach the entrance of the nightclub, bursting through the front doors onto the pavement outside, swept along in a panicking human tide.

Wanting to get as far away from this nightmare as possible, I run.

Closed stores, shops, warehouses and ramshackle apartment buildings go past me in a blur, only the occasional flickering orange lamp to light my way though the darkness, the sound of my boots thudding on the sidewalk like my own terrified heartbeat. As a street-smart girl I know that I should not be out alone after midnight but whatever is lurking in the corners of this city cannot possibly be as frightening or dangerous as what I witnessed in that club so I continue sprinting, even though I am gasping for breath, my legs are burning and my sides are full of painful stitches. I only stop once, to lean over and forcefully vomit up a bellyful of curdled purple liquid into the rubbish-strewn gutter, a brown alley cat hissing at me before scampering away into the early-morning silence. I'm sweating, my head is swimming nauseatingly and my stomach is cramping in protest but I wipe my mouth and stagger back into a lumbering jog, my mind still filled with shockingly horrific scenes of violence.

I keep running until I safely make it home and lock the door behind me, sagging onto the floor and breaking out into shuddering sobs of relief.

……………

To be continued…definitely!


	9. Frozen Forest

A/N: Yes, your favourite Lozzy fic is back! And it's only been what? 9 months again? XD Sorry for the delay (I really didn't mean to make you wait so long, honestly) but you'll be pleased to know that my hours are being cut back at work so I will have more time to write my stories now! I'm super-grateful to everyone who's stuck with me and I hope you guys enjoy this update. Special thanks go out to all these amazing people for their continued support:

Psycho Steph

Natzilla

chance969

BMIK

IA1979

AlexJ69

Silent Doll

deviousfairie

brainfear

Bustedwitch

BlueNayru

Pyra Sanada

DeviantDuckie

CayChaotic

RemnantMolesticator

Gwilwileth

TerrorThatLurksInYerBathtub….and most recently

Lunatic Angel!

You guys have been incredibly sweet and supportive of this fic so thank you, thank you, thank you.

Now, on with the story! I'm sure you're all dying to know what's happening with Cate and Loz and if they're ever gonna see each other again…

…

Part 9. Frozen Forest.

"What the hell am I doing?" I mutter to myself. I'm lost. Hopelessly and completely lost. I have no idea where I'm going or even where I'm supposed to go. All I know is that it's here somewhere. But I'll be damned if I can find it. There are no houses in this forest. If it could even be called a forest, since all the trees are dead, branches brittle and white, like old bones. It's more like a cemetery, filled with hundreds of similar tombstones.

Whirling in useless circles, I contemplate calling a cab to pick me up and take me back home but then I realise I have no way of letting the driver know where I am. I have no clue of my location, only that there's trees and rocks, the occasional pond and oh yeah, more trees. It's close to midnight, it's dark and the only reason I know I'm in a forest is because all the towering tree-trunks are glowing with a ghostly kind of illumination. It's like they're alive somehow, even though they're frozen and don't have leaves anymore. I feel like they're watching me and it creeps me out. There's no sound in this forest, no birds rustling in the branches or nocturnal animals scurrying through the undergrowth. Nothing at all. The only signs of movement are these odd little balls of white light that randomly appear and float around in the air before fading away. I dunno what they are but they're not fireflies. They're too big to be bugs. Maybe they're spirits of people long passed, lost in the underworld and doomed to drift eternally without a purpose. I'd like nothing more than to get the fuck out of this morbid place but I don't know which way to start walking, each lifeless tree looking almost exactly like the one next to it, stretching out as far as the eye can see. I've already been wandering around for what seems like an hour, tripping over rocks and broken branches and even though I'm wearing my comfy sneakers my feet are still hurting like bitches.

I'm ready to give up. Whatever I'm looking for, apparently it doesn't exist. Not here, anyway. Maybe I was given incorrect information. The only landmark I've been able to find in all this silently shimmering sameness is some weird stone sculpture that looks like an enormous seashell. I checked it out but there's nothing inside of it. It's like a monument or something. A monument to what exactly, I don't know, but it proves that people have been in this forest before because somebody had to have put it there. I wish whoever it was would show up because I'm beginning to feel very, very alone in these woods and more than a little afraid. Nobody knows I'm here and nobody will come searching for me if I go missing. I could have told Shandi where I was going but she's not my roommate any longer. She shacked up with her girlfriend and is too busy with her own life to care much about mine. The reason I couldn't find her that night in the club when all the mayhem and violence was happening was because she went back to our apartment with that chick in the red dress and missed the whole damn thing. Here I was looking for her, worried about her safety and she was home already, blissfully having girl-sex. She just forgot to tell me. When she heard me come home crying I tried to explain what happened and why I was so shaken and shocked but when I told her the appalling things I'd seen she didn't believe me, Shandi thinking I'd just had too much to drink. Our friendship kind of went downhill from there and since she's moved out I don't really talk to her anymore.

I'm still relatively close to my foster brother Jaren and I suppose I could have informed him about what I was doing tonight, and had him come with me, but he would have said it was a dumb idea and he would have been right. What was I thinking?

"Smart," I congratulate myself for choosing to wander around a deserted forest in the middle of the night unescorted. "Really fucking smart."

I pull the hood of my coat further over my ears and stick my hands into my pockets, glad I wore the fluffy purple one for tonight's excursion. It's a tad chilly out here, the cool air turning my cheeks and the tip of my nose cold. Or maybe I just feel cold because all the trees look like statues carved from ice. Maybe I should head back to that shell thing and curl up inside it until morning when it will be less creepy and confusing. I'll be safe in there and maybe I can sleep a little. Perhaps if I look around in daylight I might be able to find the road that leads back into town and then I could get a ride home and try to forget I was ever here, doing something as stupid and impulsive as this.

Just as I'm about to call this insane idea quits, I hear a noise. A twig snaps behind me, a loud deliberate sound, like someone – or something - stood on it just to let me know I'm not alone. The back of my neck tingles in warning and my pulse starts pounding. Shit, why didn't I bring mace or something? I got nothing to protect myself with. Maybe it's only a chocobo… Sure, right. In these dead, icy woods? Don't think so. Dreading what's waiting at my back, I gulp in a breath and slowly, very slowly, turn around.

It's them.

Yazoo, Kadaj and Loz. They're all standing there in a line, silver hair shining like steel, their gazes gleaming in the darkness like three big panthers. All are wearing their leather suits. Loz and Yazoo have their guns drawn and pointed right at me. Loz is also wearing Dual Hound, the silver stun-shield strapped menacingly to his left forearm.

"Who the fuck are you?" he growls.

"And what are you doing in our forest?" Yazoo adds sweetly and dangerously.

"Shit! Don't shoot! It's only me. Cate," I babble, flipping my hood back so they can see my face, looking to the bigger brother in desperation. "Loz, please say you remember me or I am so screwed right now!"

Instantly recognising me, Loz lowers his gunblade, staring in shock. Also realising that I pose no threat, Yazoo elegantly sheaths his weapon in the holster behind his back and angles his head to the side, inquisitively gazing at me with those beautiful blue-green eyes. Even though it's been months since that night, he clearly remembers who I am and even seems pleased to see me, if that's possible. Kadaj, who never even drew his sword, is also looking at me, a light of recognition starting to glint in his equally green but more malicious gaze.

"Hey, Loz. Isn't that the girl from the club? The one that ditched you? The one you took into the bathroom and fu-"

"Shut UP, Kadaj!" Loz quickly snaps, cutting off his sibling's crude remark.

Smirking at me, Kadaj comments, "Obviously is, then. Almost didn't recognise her without those slutty boots."

He lazily looks me up and down, noting my baggy jeans. "Gods, you've gained weight."

It stings but I ignore that unnecessary insult. Now that I know I'm not going to be assassinated, I turn away from Kadaj, instead facing Loz gratefully and hesitantly. He's even taller and broader than I remember.

"Hi, Loz. How've you been, big guy?"

He doesn't answer, just stares at me dumbly, as though his brain doesn't believe his eyes. Kadaj mutters something about him being a pathetic love-struck idiot.

Trying the last of the trio in the hopes of some kind of welcome, I nod to the prettier male standing on the left. His torn coat has been repaired.

"Hello, Yazoo."

He gives me a small, knowing smile. "Hello, Cate. It's nice to see you again."

Relieved by his friendliness, I reply, "You too. Wish I could say the same for your little brother. But that would be a lie." I shoot Kadaj a glare. "He's still an arrogant asshole."

"And you're still feisty, I see," Kadaj joins in, evidently recalling how I swore at him and rudely rejected his overconfident seduction attempt back by the bar. "I don't know what Loz finds appealing about opinionated tomboys such as you. I find them entirely too bothersome and difficult to handle. They never learn their place."

"Which is where?" I retort. "Chained in the kitchen?"

"I'm thinking of another room. But the chains can definitely stay." He starts to add another suggestive comment but then stops and creases his smooth brow. "Wait…How did you know where to come looking for us? Did Loz bring you back here that night? Because that's against the rules and he knows it."

He slices a fierce look at Loz.

"I didn't, I swear," Loz hastily replies. "I never brought her here!"

"He's telling the truth." I back Loz up, speaking to Kadaj. "As you so tactlessly pointed out, the nightclub bathroom was the only place he took me."

"So, how DID you find us, then?" Kadaj asks suspiciously. "It's not like we hand out business cards."

"Wasn't too difficult; just took a little persistence." I shrug. "I went to the club during daylight hours and asked your bouncer buddy Roscoe where the three scariest guys on the planet hung out. He refused to tell me and wouldn't accept my bribe so I waited around the back and eventually that Tommy kid came out for a cigarette break. He wasn't keen to tell me either, said something about not wanting to get skewered by a certain double-blade."

Here I glance uneasily at Kadaj's frighteningly designed weapon but it remains sheathed behind his back and not held to my throat. He's frowning at me in displeasure but stays silent, waiting to learn who sold him out, probably so he can go slice them up into little piles of human pastrami.

"Please don't hurt Tommy for telling me," I say anxiously. "He's a good kid and he didn't do it just for the money. I kind of…manipulated him into giving me the information. You know, played helpless crying girl so he felt sorry for me."

I drop my gaze, not proud of what I did but I had a very valid reason for it. Besides, the tears were only half-fake.

"He didn't say exactly where you lived as he didn't know the address; all he mentioned was the Forgotten City and the crystal trees. Then I got a cab. The driver would only take me part of the way, though. No matter how much I offered to pay he refused to go any further into the forest so I had to walk the rest. I don't blame him. Man, this is a spooky place." I hug myself and glance around fearfully, eerie white branches reaching up to the dark sky like the bleached finger-bones of long-dead giants. I face the brothers again, the three tall, cat-eyed young men in black even more intimidating than the desolate landscape they're lurking amongst.

"And you're all spooky guys."

"So you found us. Congratulations." Kadaj is drawling. "Now, let's get down to business. Why are you here?"

"Not to see _you_, obviously," I drawl back. "I came to talk to Loz. Alone, if you don't mind."

Sensing that we need privacy, Yazoo affords me an agreeable nod and turns away with a swish of his long coat and hair, starting to walk back the way he came, not so much as a leaf crunching under his soundless footsteps. Kadaj lingers, staring at me disdainfully.

"You made my brother cry. Remember what I said about that?"

"Kadaj!" Loz exclaims, mortified.

The young leader raises a pointed eyebrow at him. "Well, you did."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to mention it in front of her!" Loz hisses in angry embarrassment. "You're such a douche sometimes."

Kadaj rolls his eyes. "I'm getting bored. Can you handle this, Loz, or do you need my assistance?"

The unpredictable teenager stares at me again, slitted gaze gleaming like a predator about to give chase. "I can make her disappear for you…"

"Why don't you make _yourself _disappear?" Loz says impatiently. "Get lost, Kadaj. I got this."

"Fine." Kadaj sighs, disappointed that he won't get to have any fun torturing me. "I'll leave you be. But you really shouldn't have one-night stands, brother." He pats Loz on the shoulder condescendingly.

"You're just no good at them."

Darkly, Loz scowls at his sarcastic sibling but Kadaj has already dismissed us and is heading after Yazoo. The older male stuffs his gun back into his thigh-sheath and turns to me, mumbling.

"Sorry about him."

"It's okay. I kind of expected it," I admit. "I'm sure the last thing any of you want is for some random chick to show up at your doorstep."

"You're not random," Loz objects. "Plus, we don't have a doorstep. Just a rock. And behind that, a tunnel."

"You live underground?"

He nods.

"No wonder I couldn't find your house. What is it, like a bunker or something?"

"A cave. Well, it used to be. But it's totally modern inside now. No bats."

"Oh my gosh." I can feel my jaw dropping. "You have a LAIR. I mean, I knew you guys were bad but damn. That's like, super-villain bad!"

"Is that why I haven't seen you for so long? Because I'm a bad guy?" Loz guesses, uncertainly toying with the straps that hold Dual Hound to his arm. "I saw the way you looked at me before you ran out of the club. You were terrified."

"Yeah, I was." Being frank with him, I state, "It's not every day you see guys summoning big, black bony dog-demons right out of the floor."

"They're called Shadow Creepers. I can't summon them. Only Kadaj and Yazoo can." He peers at me worriedly. "They didn't attack you, did they?"

I remember how one of them looked me right in the eye, so close I could feel the sulphuric heat of its breath, before it leapt over my head and attacked the guy behind me.

"No." I shake my head. "They didn't touch me."

"Good." He lets out a breath of relief. "I was worried about that. I told Yazoo to make sure they left you alone."

"So…your brothers can do magic?" I venture.

"A little." He shrugs. "Kadaj, mainly. He gets stronger when he's got materia."

I know what materia is. It's power that comes from the Life Stream coursing through our planet, a lot like coloured energy. Materia can be contained and compressed into little balls or bottles to make magical spells and potions for healing injuries, increasing strength and the like. If you have the ability you can make it yourself or else you can buy it from specialty shops but it's highly expensive. I've never bought any. Aside from me not being rich, I've never had the need for such things and anyway, I don't trust magic. Something about it seems unnatural to me. I suppose these boys have use of it, since they're assassins and must get injured occasionally participating in that type of highly hazardous job.

Or are they assassins? Maybe they aren't. Maybe that's just their cover story, to hide whatever it is they really are. But the way Loz reacted when he told me in the club, the way he was afraid of letting it slip…it seemed too genuine.

Trying to find out what the deal is with Loz and his mysterious brothers, I query, "So, what's your special power? That blue-flashy thing, where you zap from one spot to another? Can Kadaj and Yazoo do that too?"

"Nope. I'm the only one who can. So yeah, I guess that IS my special power," he states, starting to sound proud of it. "And I don't even need materia for that. I can do it anytime I want."

Cutting through the crap, I look directly at him and ask, "What ARE you guys, Loz? And don't give me some made-up bullshit or tell me I didn't see those things you did. I know what I saw and I want the truth."

After a very long pause, he says, "It's complicated."

"You said that last time we met."

"I'd like to tell you, Cate, really I would," he insists, "but Kadaj wouldn't allow it."

"Well, I don't think he's going to have a choice." I swallow apprehensively. "You're gonna have to tell me whether he likes it or not."

Starting to frown, he questions, "Why's that?"

The intense way he's looking at me makes me suddenly nervous. Well, even more nervous than I already was. Trying to think of the best way to break this to Loz, I fumble, "Because…uh, you and I…When we were, you know – together - we, um…somehow…"

Floundering, I give up on finding the right words and just clumsily unbutton my furry purple coat, spreading it open.

"Somehow THIS happened."

I wait for his reaction, my heart fluttering fearfully.

He stares in astonishment at my rounded stomach and the t-shirt stretched over it.

"Whoa…" he utters, taking a step backward. "Are you…Is that a…?" He stares some more.

"Are you pregnant?"

Hands on my hips, I comment wryly, "Certainly looks like it, don't it?"

He glances at my face, his eyes wide and surprised, then back down at my belly.

"So, that's really a baby in there?"

Was he this thick last time we met?

"Seriously, dude. Of course it's a baby," I reply chidingly. "And in case you haven't realised, it's yours."

"Mine? You sure?"

Like we're playing a game of Questions Only, I answer, "You think I'd go traipsing around a creepy crystal forest at night by myself if it wasn't?"

"How?" He spreads his hands in complete befuddlement. "We used protection!"

"I know we did," I affirm, sighing, "but it only takes a single sperm to fertilize an egg and one could have wriggled out somehow."

"Was it my fault?" He rumples his brow, thinking hard for any mistakes he might have made. "Did I do something I shouldn't have?"

"No. I'm not blaming you at all, Loz. Even when you do everything right, condoms are still only 98 percent effective. I guess we got the two percent of complete and utter fail." I smile humourlessly. "Lucky us, huh?"

He finds the nearest fallen tree log and sinks down onto it, looking a little faint and whole lotta bewildered, his jade eyes darting around aimlessly. Understanding how much of a shock this must be for him, I lumberingly lower myself next to Loz and clasp my hands beneath the melon-sized bulge of my belly, staying quiet and giving him a bit of time to process this news.

Finally looking at him, I ask, "You okay, biker boy?"

He shakes his silver head, turning to me with a still-pale face. "No. I dunno. It's just… this is… I never…" He gives up attempting to describe how he feels and just lets out a long breath.

"Shit."

Dryly, I reply, "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too. I didn't tell you this, Loz, but I was on the contraceptive pill that night. I tend to get hormonal acne and taking it helps my skin clear up. I couldn't believe I'd still managed to fall pregnant while I was on it so I did a home pregnancy test. Actually, I did four of them just to be sure. All came back positive."

His eyes drop to my stomach. "Do you know what it is yet - boy or girl?"

"I don't know. I haven't even been to a doctor. I haven't had any examinations or blood tests or ultrasound scans. I was too afraid of what they might find." I avoid his gaze, my voice low. "I was scared that they'd tell me there was something wrong with the baby, that it was abnormal or…not human."

He doesn't try to reassure me otherwise or tell me that he IS human because we both know he's not a normal man.

Skipping over the issue of what type of creature he really is, Loz carefully hedges, "Do you want to…uh…take care…of it? If you don't want to have it I can give you money or take you to the clinic or whatever."

I afford a short head-shake. "I'm too far along for an abortion now. I did think about it at the beginning but when I felt it move in me – felt it alive and kicking, I changed my mind. With me on the pill and you using a condom, all I can say is that this kid really wants to be born. The Gods must have made this happen for a reason so I can't just fuck with fate."

I bravely face him. "I'm going to keep it, Loz. This baby deserves a chance to live. I don't know exactly what it's going to turn out like but it's mine and even if it's got a tail or webbed feet I'll still love it anyway."

Leaning forward on the log, Loz digests this for a while, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fist, gazing intently and thoughtfully into the quiet forest.

"If you want to keep it then I'll support you," he eventually announces, turning back to me. "I'll help you in whatever way I can, I swear. This is my responsibility too."

"Thank you. I really don't have anybody else," I confess, my voice wavering with the effort of trying not to cry. "I was so scared you weren't going to care. I thought maybe you would tell me to get lost and never come back."

"Hey, I'd never do that." Tentatively, Loz touches my arm, showing that he still cares about me. "I just wish you'd come sooner. Why didn't you call?"

"I lost your number." At his sceptical look, I maintain, "I did! My phone fell out of my pocket when I was running home that night. I went back and retraced my steps but never found it. If I had, I would have called and yelled at you for scaring the shit out of me. You could have warned me that you guys were gonna go psycho and damn near maim everyone in the club. I've never seen so much blood in my life. And then when you smashed that dyke's face in…"

He winces at the reminder. "Cate, I never would have hurt you. It was just a stupid brawl. And that bitch's girlfriend hit me first."

"Yeah. I realise that now. But at the time I didn't know what the hell was happening. It was completely crazy and fucked up."

He lowers his gaze and nods, understanding how freaked out I must have been by what I saw.

"Believe me, Loz, if I had your number, I would have contacted you well before now and informed you that you were going to be a father. That's why I'm doing it in person. You deserve to know."

"Thanks," he mumbles belatedly. "I guess we should tell my brothers too, huh?"

"I think Yazoo's guessed already. He was sort of smiling at me like he knew."

Loz gives an unsurprised 'humph.' "Figures. I know he doesn't look it but Yaz is pretty sharp. He don't miss much."

"Kadaj definitely doesn't know. What do you think he'll say?"

"Dunno. He probably won't be too happy about it." Loz makes an expression of dread. "There might be some yelling."

"Maybe we should break it to him gently," I suggest. "You know, work up to it. Certainly don't just blurt it out."

"Yeah," Loz ponders, picturing his volatile little brother's response when we tell him the big news. "Maybe we should do that."

"Anyway, how did you guys know I was here?" I query. "Did my loud, clumsy stumbling give me away?"

"Motion sensors," he informs me, pointing to a small device attached to the trunk of a tree. "We got them everywhere. We don't actually own the Sleeping Forest but we like to know who comes here and when. We got lotsa enemies and don't want nobody sneaking up on us."

"Like you snuck up on me? How'd you guys DO that?" I squint at him in amazement. "There are leaves and sticks and shit lying everywhere all over the ground and you didn't even step on one of them. At least not until you wanted me to know you were there."

He casually lifts a wide shoulder. "We're good at being stealthy."

Like cats, I think to myself, glancing at Loz's pupils. They're rounded at the moment but I've seen them as narrow as paper cuts. The boys didn't bring torches with them when they tracked me down amongst the trees so it certainly seems as though they can see in the dark too. Like feline hunters, stalking prey. Or reptiles. I shiver involuntarily, wondering if they're some kind of half-animal, half-human hybrids.

Misinterpreting my shivering, Loz furrows his brow in concern. "You wanna go back home to talk? It's a little fresh out here and I don't want you to get a cold. I'll tell you everything you wanna know then, I promise."

"Okay." I stand up when he does and scout around the deserted woods. "Where are your bikes?"

"We didn't bring them. You would have heard us coming otherwise. We walked from the lair."

"How far away is it? My feet are killing me and my ankles have puffed up like overcooked sausages," I complain. "I'm only five months along but I swear, this is the heaviest friggin' baby in the world."

"It's not far. I'll carry you." He goes to reach for me and then retracts his hand uncertainly. "I mean, if…if that's okay."

After witnessing the damage Loz can do with his powerful arms and fists, a lot of girls wouldn't want to be touched by him ever again but strangely enough, though I know what he's capable of and what unnatural strength lies in his large, muscular frame, I'm not scared of him. Even in the club when I saw him breaking bones, I wasn't really scared that he'd break mine and I'm not afraid of that now. I know he can be violent but I also know he can amazingly gentle too.

"Sure," I say, looking up at his towering figure with a half-smile. "I'd love to be carried."

"Let me just turn this off first," he advises, fiddling with the safety switch on Dual Hound. "Don't wanna accidentally give you a shock."

The large metal contraption on his forearm looks heavy and bulky but he wields it with ease, as though it's part of his skeletal system. I can hear a crackling hum as it turns off and powers down, all the electrical components deactivating. With his titanium stun-weapon disabled, Loz bends down, slipping a hand behind my lower back and one under my knees, making sure the two sharp tips of Dual Hound don't poke into me. Though I weigh a lot more now than I did back then at the club, he swings me into his arms like I'm a light bundle of straw, lifting me up and holding me against his broad chest.

"Wow, I almost forgot how strong you were," I remark breathlessly, recalling the last time he picked me up and how effortless it was. Thinking about what he did with me after that causes a slight flush to heat my face and a tiny tingle to race along my inner thighs, my body evidently remembering the hot bathroom wall-oral as well. That was a damn sexy experience. I'm sure he's remembering the exact same thing I am but thankfully he doesn't mention it, just gives an awkward cough and then begins to walk, my arms slung shyly around his neck.

"Lair's this way," he utters, heading past the lake with the seashell in front of it and through the glowing parade of trees, in the same direction that Yazoo and Kadaj went earlier. There's no discernable path worn into the ground and all the surrounding landscape looks exactly and confusingly the same. A person could easily get disoriented and lost forever in this place - like I nearly was - but Loz definitely knows where he's going so I relax and put my trust in him. Being this close to him again after so long is thrilling and wonderful. He hasn't changed one bit. He's still got the silver scythe-shaped sideburns and the perfect pixie-hair. His jaw is every bit as chiselled as I remember it, his nose just as straight and pointed. His cheekbones are just as defined and his lips just as wide and attractively-formed, eyebrows still thin and slanted above those shimmering bluish-green irises of his. He's still as solid as a rock, all his muscles firm and ready for fighting beneath his tight suit of belts, buckles and zips, his gun strapped to one powerful thigh. He's big, handsome, fit and deadly, like the merciless hit man he's paid to be. His jacket is unzipped to his breastbone like last time, just above the connective ring of his cross-straps, his collar stiff and upright, opened at the front to reveal his Adam's apple and the cleft between his pecs, his skin still pale as marble. I lean into his neck and nudge his collar aside so I can inhale the fragrance of his aftershave. He still smells great, too. I nuzzle into the side of his throat, wanting to drink in his musky, manly, leathery scent, the scent I always dream about when I'm alone at night in my bed.

"I missed you, Loz," I can't help whispering.

He stops walking. Loz closes his eyes and exhales a shaky breath, his heart beginning to thump hard in his chest. I know because I'm held right against it. Feeling his reaction to me makes my heart start to thud harder too and I press closer to him with a sigh of longing, threading my fingers in his thick, soft hair. Whatever we had between us in the club – attraction, desire, magnetism – is still there. It's like it was lying under our skins all this time, waiting for us to get near each other again and now that we are, it's flaring into life once more, drawing us together the same way it did that night. I don't care if he's a cat-creature or a lizard-creature or any other type of creature – I still have feelings for him. Pretty significant ones. Despite my unplanned and advanced pregnancy, I still want him and if he laid me down on the ground right now and started taking off my coat, I'd let him do it. However, he doesn't try anything like that. Not even when I attempt to kiss him, lifting my chin and seeking his mouth, wanting to taste him again, wanting to feel his lips on mine. Being a complete gentleman, he simply turns to gives me a chastely sweet peck on the forehead.

"Later, little girl," he whispers, letting me know that although he wants me too, we should wait until a more appropriate time before tearing each other's clothing off and going at it. Like maybe when we're inside and have some seclusion and not out in the forest setting off the motion sensors. Finding out what type of baby I'm having would be a useful thing to know first as well. I'm disappointed that he won't kiss me yet but I also understand why so I nod my agreement to wait until later. He presses his lips to my brow again before looking forward and continuing along the secret track only he and his brothers know, stepping over rocks and branches with sure, steady strides, carrying me securely in his strong yet careful embrace.

Soon, we come to a large bunch of boulders, covered in climbing vines. Loz presses a concealed spot on one of the boulders and a hidden door slides open, wide enough to drive a car through. Loz carries me inside. It's dark and smells like a mixture of oil, rust and salt. The door closes after us, a fluorescent sensor-light blinking on overhead. We have entered a large cavern, converted into a triple-sized garage, the ceiling high and covered in clusters of intricately shaped stalactites, formed by centuries of dripping water that have long since dried up, leaving behind tapered straws and lumps of cream, yellow and orange crystallised mineral deposits that sparkle in the light like rough diamonds. Some of the older, thicker stalactites resemble other living things, such as mushrooms, coral or palm tree trunks. Some even look like penises, with rounded knobs on the ends.

"Awesome," I breathe, gazing around as Loz sets me down on the ground. The floor has been levelled and covered in sand which has tyre tracks in it. Three greenish metal motorcycles sit silently in a row, huge, rusty and battle-scarred. They have machine guns mounted on them. There's also an ugly, rickety pick-up truck, something I didn't think any of these kick-ass assassins would own but I guess they need something to collect their groceries in. Even hit men would have to eat and buy toilet paper and such necessities. Loz takes me by the hand, leading me past the vehicles and a long workbench that's carved directly into the cave wall, its top covered in tools and greasy rags. There are also more tools on the ground and a welder. I get the distinct impression this is Loz's domain and an area he spends a lot of time in. I just can't see Yazoo or Kadaj in here, fixing flat tyres or welding together broken mechanical parts. There's a door at the back of the garage and another one at the right side. Through the right entrance is a tunnel-like hallway with a much lower ceiling and Loz takes me along it, our path lit by more fluorescent tubes. It slopes downward. Unlike the garage, concrete has been laid down the corridor, providing a smooth, hard-wearing surface to walk on. It's a really deep tunnel. My sore feet wish it was an escalator or one of those travelator things you see at airports, carrying people along without having to walk. Knowing how privileged I am to see inside Loz's lair, I don't complain, though, just gaze around in wonder.

We reach the end, turn left and come out into a very modern kitchen with granite bench tops and stainless steel appliances. You'd think with it being part of an actual cave system that there'd be bugs and other nasties crawling all over the place but it's very clean. No cockroaches or centipedes on the counter. No spider webs on the roof. It's not wet down here either, the rippled sandstone walls dry and slime-free. There was a chill factor in the air outside in the forest but it's nicely toasty in here which surprises me since we're Gods knows how many feet underground. I suppose rock is a natural insulator and I start to see why they've chosen to live beneath the planet instead of on it. Not only does it conceal their headquarters from any enemies, it must stay warm in winter and cool in summer, probably saving them a bunch on heating and cooling expenses. This place is unmistakably a natural structure with its domed stone roof and curved, bumpy walls but it has been modified to a liveable, stylish space by installing lights, power, ventilation and proper flooring. There's a glass kitchen table and metal-framed chairs, a silver refrigerator, even an expensive looking coffee-making machine on the counter. Somebody has brewed some very recently going by the rich aroma still swirling around the room.

Through a naturally-formed archway is another living area with a flat-screen television against one wall, as well as a stereo with large speakers, a long modular leather lounge and a couple of matching arm chairs. There's thick charcoal-coloured carpet on the floor. It looks like a designer home. Everything is in shades of silver, grey and black and is either made of stone, steel, glass or leather, giving the whole domain a contemporary aura of minimalism and masculinity. It's totally a guys' retreat. There are no feminine touches anywhere – no flowers, no plants, no paintings or other pretty things, except for the boys that live in it. Beyond another entrance I can see into a second hallway which must lead to bedrooms and bathrooms. It's like an entire house has been built within a cave.

Awed by what I'm standing inside, I murmur, "This place is so fucking awesome."

"Yeah," Loz replies happily. "It's home."

We cross into the living room and it's only then that I notice Kadaj and Yazoo are in there, sitting on the lounge beside each other. Their weapons are lying on the coffee table in front of them, as well as two empty mugs. They've clearly been in a discussion, most likely about me and whether I should be allowed to live or not. I think Yazoo is on my side but then again I AM a stranger in their midst so I'm not sure how well I'm going to be received, standing in their home. I'm incredibly nervous to be here, in a lair occupied by lethal assassins, but extremely thankful that Loz is with me, the bigger brother holding my hand comfortingly in his. By the deep breath he takes before we leave the kitchen, I can tell Loz is nervous too. He'll be wondering how Kadaj will take it, finding out his older brother knocked up some chick five months ago in a nightclub toilet. When we enter the living room together, Yazoo glances up, meeting Loz's anxious gaze. A moment passes between them and then Yazoo smiles, nodding. A relieved expression fills Loz's face, as though Yazoo has just said something reassuring to him. But neither of them spoke a single word.

Leaping to his feet when he sees me, Kadaj blazes, "What the fuck is SHE doing in here?"

Boy, he sure knows how to make a girl feel welcome.

"I thought you were going to handle this, Loz. You were supposed to get rid of her, not invite her in for a cup of tea!" Kadaj throws up his hands in aggravation. "Gods, if we didn't share the same cells, I'd have killed you long ago. You never do anything right!"

"Chill out, Daj," Loz cautions at his little brother's ranting. "We got some important news to tell you."

"Oh, no. You didn't _propose _to her, did you?" Kadaj says in distaste, looking at our linked fingers. "That would be just the sort of impulsive, idiotically romantic thing you'd do. Anyway, how can she take your last name when you don't even have one?"

"We're not getting married," Loz says impatiently. "We're having a kid, okay?"

So much for gently breaking the news.

"A…kid?" Kadaj blinks in confusion.

"Yeah, a kid. A child. A tiny little person. Gods, and you think I'm the dumb one in the family," Loz grumbles.

"So what you said about me gaining weight, Kadaj - you can take those words back and jam them up your ass," I haughtily advise. "I'm not fat, you insensitive moron. I'm pregnant."

Just to prove it, I part the front of my coat and let him see my swollen belly. Kadaj just stares at it, utterly out of smart remarks for once in his life.

"Motherhood suits you, Cate," Yazoo says, graciously smiling. "I noticed your new glow straight away."

Whipping his head around, Kadaj turns on him in angry accusation, his hair swinging in a short arc. "Excuse me? You KNEW, Yazoo? Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

Undaunted by Kadaj's demanding tone, Yazoo just replies, "It wasn't my place to tell. It's theirs."

Now focusing all that anger on his bigger brother, Kadaj exclaims furiously, "You fucking idiot, Loz! How did this happen?"

Shooting Kadaj a 'duh' kind of look, Loz retorts, "How do you think?"

Kadaj grits his teeth. "I realise you had sex, you imbecile. What I meant was: I gave you a condom. Didn't you use the damn thing?"

"Of course I did."

"Did you use it properly? You didn't put it on inside out or anything, did you?"

"Hey!" Loz booms in outrage. "I'm not that much of a dumbass!"

"Well, is there a chance you could have torn it with your haste? You were in a mighty hurry to get one from me, as I recall."

Sticking up for Loz, I butt in, "He didn't tear the condom, Kadaj. I was watching. He put it on fine."

Still disbelieving, Kadaj returns, "So, it was defective, then? Had a hole in it?"

"It IS possible, brother," Yazoo steps in. "Besides, what does it matter how it happened? It's already done and as such can't be undone."

Kadaj looks sharply at me. "Is that so?"

"Don't even suggest it," Loz snarls, tensing his muscles and glaring vehemently at his younger sibling. "We're NOT killing our baby. If you say that I'm gonna rip out your tongue and stuff it back down your throat."

"Such threats of violence," Kadaj mocks. "Does innocent little Cate know you've actually done things like that before?"

"You're thugs for hire. Yes, Loz already told me that. And he's right. We're keeping this child. It's our choice, Kadaj," I stipulate. "It doesn't matter if you're the head of this family - it's a decision WE get to make. Loz and I. Not you."

Slowly sitting back down on the lounge, Kadaj turns silent, gazing at my belly as he mulls over this unforseen situation.

"Are you really going to keep it?"

"I really am. In fact, I'll probably end up having it right here, in this bat-cave of yours. Not that I want to do it without any medical assistance but I've thought a lot about this and I can't risk going to a hospital to deliver the baby in case it comes out looking like any of you, which, let's face it, is a distinct possibility." I glance apologetically at Loz and then the other two. "I think a newborn with silver hair and slitted pupils might draw a lot of unwanted attention. They could even take the baby away from me and I can't let that happen."

"I won't let it either, Cate," Loz promises defensively. "Nobody's taking our kid. I'll kill anyone who tries."

Appearing nauseated, Kadaj queries, "You're going to give birth HERE? Where we live?"

"You got any other ideas?" I challenge him. "You got any pals in the maternity ward? Any trusted doctor friends that can assist me?"

Clenching his jaw, Loz grates out, "Doctors. I hate those white-coated assholes."

"No, Cate," Yazoo says regretfully to me. "We don't know any medical personnel we can trust. I'm sorry. "

"Yeah. Well, you see my dilemma?" I gaze between them all in frustration. "Believe me, the last thing I wanted to do was come here begging for your aid but I have no other choice. Where else can I have this damn baby? At home alone on my apartment floor? Because that's exactly what will happen if you don't help me. Please, guys. I don't normally ask anyone for anything but I don't know where else to go."

Yazoo turns to Kadaj, long metallic-grey hair slipping silkily over one armoured shoulder.

"She's right, brother. I think this is the best place for her to deliver the child, where nobody knows about it and can't interfere. We can assist her. And once it's over, we're going to have a new addition to the family. A new little Remnant."

Remnant? What does that mean?

"Kadaj, you and I…we're going to be uncles." Yazoo's lips curve into a small smile. "Aren't you pleased?"

Realising the futility of his protests, the youngest of the group finally starts to accept what's going to happen.

"All right," he grudgingly concedes. "She can have it here. Just don't expect me to watch."

"I wouldn't let you anyway," I flatly emphasise. "There's no way you're ever looking between my legs."

"At least we agree on something," he flings back, his eyes hateful and mean.

The baby chooses that moment to roll over and everyone stares at my moving stomach while I self-consciously rub at it, trying to get the kid to settle back into place. It's unsettling being stared at by three pairs of brightly-coloured amphibian eyes, their pupils narrowing almost in unison.

"What does it feel like?" Yazoo asks with mild interest. "Having something growing inside you?"

Only half-joking, I reply, "Like I'm incubating an alien."

They all glance at one another. Nobody's laughing. In fact, it seems like they're talking intently between themselves, only without words, expressing their opinions with frowns, head-shakes and other small facial gestures.

"Is anybody gonna tell me what the deal is with you three weirdos?" I press, unnerved by their voiceless communication. "I already figured out you're not regular dudes because aside from the telepathy and the lizard pupils, regular dudes can't summon demonic creatures out of thin air or flash from one place to another leaving behind a blue trail of light. Nobody human can move like you guys do. So what exactly are you?"

The other two look to Kadaj for the answer, Yazoo questioningly and Loz pleadingly.

Kadaj shortly shakes his head.

"C'mon, Kadaj," the oldest implores. "We have to tell her."

"She's a civilian. She doesn't need to know."

"Yes, she does. If you aren't gonna tell her, I will," Loz threatens. "You can't stop me!"

In a cold voice, Kadaj returns, "Oh, can't I?"

Yazoo interjects before Loz and Kadaj start throwing punches, the long-haired male speaking rationally and calmly. "I think since she's carrying a part of us inside her – and therefore a part of Mother's cells inside her - Cate deserves to know the truth of how we came into existence and what effect our bloodline might have on the child."

"Yeah, what he said!" Loz echoes heatedly. "We're telling her and there's nothin' you can do about it!"

Kadaj levels his snake-eyed stare at me, the narrowed green orbs glittering with venom.

"I could kill her. That'd solve everything."

Instantly, Loz shifts protectively in front of me like a growling grizzly bear, raising his arm-shield. "You could TRY."

"Kadaj, killing her is not the answer. You'd kill the baby too," Yazoo logically reminds him. "Is that what you want? To kill a part of Mother?"

At those words, Kadaj hesitates, uncertainty flickering in his face. Yazoo focuses on him, big dreamy eyes gazing hypnotically into Kadaj's, the pretty one's deep voice becoming silky and irresistibly convincing.

"Think about it, brother. Is that what our beloved Mother would want you to do?" He touches Kadaj's cheek in a persuasive, caressing manner. "Destroy one of her children? Destroy her legacy? Destroy her future?"

Sensing this is an argument he won't win, Kadaj makes a noise of impatience, batting Yazoo's hand away. "Fine," he snaps. "If you want to tell your new girlfriend all our family secrets, Loz, go right ahead. Just don't come crying to me when she walks out because she can't fucking handle it!"

And with that parting shot, he pushes up from the couch and stalks off, trouser legs flapping with each fast, fuming stride. He disappears around the corner into the depths of the cave while I stand there hugging my belly uncomfortably, hating to be the cause of such disruption and arguing between what is otherwise a very close band of brothers.

"Sorry," I mutter. "I didn't want to cause any trouble for you guys."

"It's not your fault," Yazoo assures me. "He just needs time to deal with the news. And please, do sit down. You look uncomfortable."

"Well, I've had five months of knowing about this baby and I'm still dealing with it," I admit, heavily plonking onto the couch, grateful to be off my aching feet. "I never wanted to be a mom so early in my life."

"I never wanted to be a dad either," Loz confesses, sitting his big frame next to me. "But I do now."

After unbuckling Dual Hound and setting the weapon aside, he takes my hand, squeezing it guiltily. "I gotta own up to my duty and be a man. I gotta accept accountability for what I did to you."

I squeeze his hand back. "You didn't do this to me, Loz. It's just something that happened."

"Maybe Kadaj has a valid point, though," Yazoo muses, glancing at his older brother. "Do you think Cate can handle knowing what we are and where we came from?"

"I can handle it!" I jump in before Loz can express any doubts about my mental capabilities. "If I can handle terrifying nightmares and flashbacks of you three breaking people's limbs in half and conjuring up hideous flesh-eating hell-hounds, then I can handle whatever it is you're going to tell me. When it comes to you guys I'm already expecting all kinds of weird."

"You really wanna know?" Loz asks me seriously. "It ain't no fairytale."

"Yeah, well, neither is being pregnant to you," I say bluntly. "You wanna act like a father, Loz? Start by telling me what you are. Who's your mother? And what the hell is a Remnant?"

"Well, a Remnant is kind of like… pieces…or left over parts of… uh…" Loz looks sheepishly to his middle sibling. "You explain it, Yaz. I ain't that good with words."

Yazoo nods, perfectly fine with being the one to tell me. "How much do you want her to know, Loz?"

"Everything."

Nodding again, Yazoo faces me warningly. "What you're about to hear may shock and disturb you, Cate."

I take a breath. "I'm prepared. I need to know. That's why I came here."

Yazoo's gaze grows distant as he delves back into the past, his voice low and soft as he tilts his head in memory and begins recounting their story.

…

A/N: Okay, so I have a confession to make. I was a bit worried about posting this chapter because I truly don't know how it's going to be received. I don't know if people will like it. Yes, Cate's pregnant. There will be a lot of pregnancy related stuff in this fic (including pregnancy sex) and I'm sorry if you don't like the idea of that but it's needed for the plot. Rest assured, there will still be dirty smut and violence, and there is definitely going to be yaoi and clonecest between the Remnants which will hopefully be enough to keep people interested even if they don't like the whole 'baby' thing but I guess my biggest fear is that with my female character being knocked up by one of the silver haired men, this story has now become the dreaded Mary Sue. If that's what it is, then fine. It's a Mary Sue. I can accept that. What you, dear readers, have to decide is if it's a good Mary Sue or a bad Mary Sue. I'll leave that up to you. If you choose to stop reading this fic now, I understand. No hard feelings! But if you want to read more and you like where this is going, please, please tell me.


	10. Lab Rats

A/N: Look guys, quick update! It's only been two months! :P Thanks to everyone who's still reading the story. Especially:

Moka-girl

Psycho Babble

chance969

MusicOfTheDawn

BlueNayru

BMIK

Psycho Steph

IA1979

AmandaMiau

TerrorThatLurksInYerBathtub

Brainfear

CayChaotic

Natzilla

Thanks so much, you guys! You've been really supportive of the direction the fic is going so I dedicate this chapter to you all.

This chapter deals with their background and is my interpretation of where the Remnants came from. Hope you enjoy!

...

In the last chapter:

Yazoo faces me warningly. "What you're about to hear may shock and disturb you, Cate."

I take a breath. "I'm prepared. I need to know. That's why I came here."

Yazoo's gaze grows distant as he delves back into the past, his voice low and soft as he tilts his head in memory and begins recounting their story.

Part 10. Lab Rats.

"We never had normal parents like you, Cate," Yazoo tells me. "Our Mother did not come from here. She hails from far, far away and from a time well before us, well before anything ever existed."

He speaks reverently, as if she is a goddess he worships every day.

"She is ancient and divine and she came to this planet after a very long journey. She flew here on the wings of the stars, the light of the moon guiding her way."

Trying to put his mysterious, cryptic words into some kind of order, I hazard, "What, you're telling me she's from another galaxy or something?"

"Exactly."

If it was anybody else speaking I'd laugh and call him fucking nuts but he's sitting there so calmly serious, looking at me with those aqua-jade serpentine eyes, an arresting and distinctively unusual feature that nobody outside of this lair has. The same eyes that Loz possesses, the bigger brother sitting beside me in an equally serious and sombre manner. It's those frighteningly beautiful eyes that make me listen to Yazoo and start to believe every word he says, despite how incredibly insane they may sound.

"Centuries ago, Mother came to this world with the intention of becoming its wise and wonderful Queen but she was imprisoned - and injured - shortly after she got here. Her body was collected some years later and taken away to a secret location where it has been kept ever since. We are trying to find her. We spend most of our days searching for her and questioning people who may know where she is. Mother is not...alive... like you and I but she is still aware and she still speaks to us."

"Or to Kadaj anyway," Loz grumbles jealously. "She never speaks to me."

Looking at my confused face, Yazoo says apologetically, "But we're getting ahead of ourselves. Let's start from the beginning, shall we?"

"Beginning is good," I encourage, wanting to learn the highly puzzling mystery surrounding these three enigmatic and extraordinary brothers.

Gazing at me, Yazoo begins, "We were not born like you or other humans. We woke up in a tank of fluid. We were created artificially in a laboratory, produced in Mother's image from her very cells. We spent most of our lives underground, in a scientific facility. That's why we're so pale. No sun, you see."

Blinking at him, I stammer, "You're...you're clones?"

"Why do you think we look so similar?" He glances at Loz who despite his obvious size difference has the exact same coloured hair and irises, the same white skin and the same type of facial features. The only differences between them are slight and the resemblances are too strong to deny.

"We were cloned," Yazoo confirms. "From Jenova."

"Hold on a second," I interject in disbelief. "You mean, THE Jenova? The alien life form that supposedly crash-landed here two thousand years ago and tried to take over the world? That's the Mother you're talking about?"

He tilts his head at me. "Ah, you've heard of her."

Of course I have. Everybody knows about the huge fissure in the planet called the Northern Crater and everybody's heard the legend of how it came to exist. But I thought it was just that – a legend, a tale. A myth, created by frightened tribes-people who'd never seen a comet smash to the ground before.

"You're telling me what happened at the Northern Crater is actually true? Jenova was real?"

"She still is. We're living proof." Yazoo spreads his hands in an elegant gesture. "You said it yourself; nobody human can move like we do."

"And Jenova is a woman?"

The stories usually speak of the Crisis that fell from the sky as being genderless, an 'it', sometimes a male, but not female.

The man who impregnated me speaks up. "We've never seen Mother but Kadaj has, when she appears in his visions. He says she's beautiful. He says we all look like her." Loz smiles mistily at his younger brother. It's obvious by his adoring tone that he reveres this Jenova creature. Loves it deeply, even. Yazoo too.

Hoping I don't make them mad, I nevertheless have to question, "But isn't Jenova evil? Didn't it – she – try to destroy the planet? According to the legend, didn't she infect people with a virus that turned them into monsters?"

"Mother was misunderstood," Yazoo says simply. "She wasn't trying to destroy the planet, only make it better. People were afraid of her because she was different and not from this world. So they captured her. Hurt her. Locked her away."

"Poor Mother," Loz mumbles sadly. Yazoo pats him on the shoulder.

"Don't be sad, Loz. Everything will be okay when we find her."

After shaking my head and letting out a long, bewildered breath, I surmise, "So, Jenova is your mother. Your mother is an alien."

Yazoo nods. "We weren't just created from her. Like all children we have a Father and were given genetic material from him as well. His name is Sephiroth. Perhaps you know of him too?" The slender beauty looks to me questioningly.

"Wait...Sephiroth?" An alarm bell is ringing very loudly in my head. "You don't mean that crazy asshole who killed a bunch of people and tried to blow up the world with a massive fuckin' meteor?

"He wasn't crazy," Loz butts in defensively.

"Oh, really?" I drawl, giving him a challenging look. "I suppose you're going to say he was just 'misunderstood' too, huh?"

"Yes, actually. He was," Yazoo quietly returns. "And please, Cate, I would prefer it if you didn't refer to our Father in that way."

He's as polite and softly spoken as ever but I get the distinct feeling I've offended him. Disrespected him.

"Sorry," I mumble. "I'm just going by what I heard in the media."

"Well, you heard wrong."

Except for the fact that he was clearly a madman, I guess I didn't really pay a lot of attention to what the media were saying about this Sephiroth person. The news of mass murder and impending global disaster was gloomy enough as it was. When that kind of stuff happens I tend to switch the television off and I certainly don't buy a stack of newspapers to read up on it otherwise I'd get too depressed about the sorry state of this planet and go hang myself. I search my brain, trying to recall some useful information about this man who was allegedly Loz and Yazoo's other DNA donor. I think he was a General or something but try as I might, I can't even picture his face. It happened over two years ago, after all, and the only thing I can remember about Sephiroth is that he was defeated and killed, the world was saved and life went on as usual.

"How did you get cloned from him when he only died a couple of years ago?" I ask in bafflement. "You guys are all in your twenties. Well, except for Kadaj. He's gotta be...what? Nineteen at the most?"

"Eighteen," Yazoo fills me in. "When Sephiroth was around his age, even younger, his cells had already been harvested and stored. Even then the scientists knew he was something special. We received his cells at a later stage, after we'd awoken from our stasis. Admittedly, we were not cloned from him as such, merely enhanced with his genes."

"Forgive me for being blunt, but why would anyone want to keep that guy's chromosomes? Weren't they deficient?"

"Not at all," Yazoo murmurs. "Sephiroth was perfect."

"Tell her, Yaz. Tell her how awesome Father was," Loz chips in proudly.

Doing just that, Yazoo explains about Sephiroth and how he was a top-class member of a military-style organisation called SOLDIER. He tells me about the General possessing strengths and abilities far beyond anyone else in his rank, far beyond anyone who ever lived before. Sephiroth was given Jenova cells along with everyone else in SOLDIER and that's what made them so powerful. But nobody was as powerful as Sephiroth. He was the ultimate warrior, a walking, living weapon of destruction, and according to Yazoo, the only thing sharper than his Matsamune sword and quick wit was his piercing green gaze. The same green gaze that his young replicas now share, two of which are looking at me right now, awaiting my response.

"Okay, so Sephiroth kicked major ass. I get that," I grudgingly admit. "But if he was created from your mother's cells like you guys were, wouldn't that make him your older brother?

"I suppose it would seem so," Yazoo concedes. "But since he came first and we were given his biological matter, we choose to refer to him as Father. He was a great man. I wish we had gotten the chance to know him."

"You never met?"

"He died before that could happen," Loz says sorrowfully. "People call us Remnants, because we're all that's left of him."

Then he brightens again. "But he's gonna come back one day. You'll see. After the Reunion we'll all be together again."

"On this planet life and death are not absolute," Yazoo says mysteriously. "Sephiroth is not here anymore but we believe he will soon return. In fact, we're counting on it."

I stare at him, not getting it. People don't die and then come back. I should know. I haven't seen my parents alive since I was a little girl and I sincerely doubt that they'll just climb out of the Life Stream and walk though the front door to play happy families once again, like Loz and Yazoo seem to think their father will do.

Attempting to clarify a very confounding situation, I slowly conclude, "Okay, you're saying that your mom is a two thousand year old extraterrestrial being, and your dad was a genetically-enhanced super-soldier, and you were all test-tube babies cloned from them in a lab and that's why you have freaky powers and weird slit-eyes?"

"That's about it," Loz says with a shrug. Then he frowns at me. "Hey! I thought you liked my eyes. You said they were pretty."

"Well, they are but..." I look uselessly between the two of them and their identical reptilian gazes. "This is all just really, really bizarre. And confusing as fuck."

Yazoo smiles but I'm not sure if it's in sympathy or perverse amusement. "I'm sure it is. However, I will try and describe our unique...upbringing... as simply and clearly as I can for you."

Continuing along, he explains about how he, Loz and Kadaj grew up in a top-secret compound, built below-ground for scientific experimentation and testing. They were each small boys when they were first released from their developing tanks and were housed in the same cell together. From the way he describes it, it was a cold, clinical environment but they had clothes, beds, toys and even a television. They were all part of an experiment called the Jenova Project. Yazoo tells me about mako energy harnessed from the core of the planet that was injected into their father Sephiroth and all the other members of SOLDIER, giving them super-powers and making their eyes gleam with unnatural light.

Glancing at Yazoo's bright green irises and then at Loz's matching ones, I guess, "You guys got mako too."

"We got lotsa things in the lab," Loz embellishes. "We don't even know half of the shit they put into us."

Finishing Loz's sentence like a twin, Yazoo adds, "But whatever it was, it made us grow fast. Grow strong. Quick. Agile. Our levels of physical endurance, fitness and strength were phenomenally high. As was our tolerance of pain. Just like Father."

"Nothin' could hurt us," Loz brags. "Not for long, anyway."

"Along with everything else, we were given the ability of tissue regeneration. There were tests. They'd cut us, burn us, break our bones," the long haired Remnant states matter-of-factly. "Just to see how much stress we could take and how quickly our bodies would rejuvenate. Our injuries would always heal in a matter of hours and leave no trace, no scar. We'd hardly even bleed. In return for our co-operation, the scientists gave us everything children could want. Toys. Comic books. Electronic games. Candy. Everything except our freedom. We knew what the outside world and all its inhabitants looked like because we'd seen it on our television screen but we'd never spoken to anyone without a white coat on and had never made a friend, smoked a cigarette or petted a dog. We'd never felt a single blade of grass under our bare feet, swam in a cool, clear lake or smelled the scent of an approaching storm."

For someone who doesn't usually speak a lot, he's awfully good at it, his words almost poetic in description.

"But even the longing for freedom wasn't as hard to endure as not being able to see Mother. The scientists promised that if we were good they would take us to her and in that way they were able to control us and our behaviour. For a time. Eventually, we realised it wasn't going to happen. No matter how good we were, how much we co-operated or how much we suffered in silence, we never got what we wanted most of all. Kadaj was the worst affected by this denial, since he was always closer to Mother than we were. He could sense her presence the strongest and knowing that she was out there somewhere, calling for us but not being able to get to her...It nearly destroyed him."

"Poor Daj," Loz mutters, still remembering how much his little brother pined for their absent mother.

"So, when were teenagers, we started plotting our escape. In truth, Kadaj did most of the plotting. We were just on standby to act when he told us to. We didn't even talk about what we were going to do, not out loud anyway. We were recorded and monitored almost all of the time so any talking we did was silently. As you can see, one of our special abilities is to be able to communicate telepathically, to speak with our thoughts alone." He turns to Loz.

"Loz, what am I thinking about right now?"

The older male squints at Yazoo, reading his mind. Then he breaks out into a devious grin. "I can't say that in front of her, Yaz! It's too dirty."

Yazoo smirks back, the two of them obviously sharing some private joke.

"That's pretty cool," I comment in an envious mutter, wishing I had a couple of cloned brothers to voicelessly share disgusting jokes with.

"Being a clone does have its good points," the graceful middle brother reinforces. "But there were more bad than good, in our case. After so many years of being studied and tested-"

"Tortured is more like it," Loz grunts.

"-and cooped up like three rats in a cage," Yazoo carries on, "all we wanted was to get out of there and find Mother. It was all we thought about. We hated that place and we hated everyone in it. Outwardly, we were exceptionally well-behaved so nobody suspected what were planning. One morning, Kadaj gave us the signal we had been waiting for. When they came to take us for another round of tests, we attacked the lab technicians, left them for dead and stole their access cards, using one to open our door. We took down the guards outside with their own stun-guns and then set off down the hallway. It was almost too easy. Because we were just kids and had always done what we were told, nobody expected us to suddenly attack. As soon as they realised we were out, the whole facility went into evacuation mode and then lockdown. Nobody could get in or out but that didn't stop us. We tore the whole place apart looking for Mother, flattening anyone who got in our way. We went systematically from room to room, turning everything upside down, searching everywhere. But she wasn't there. We couldn't even unearth a trace of her; not a single cell. They'd hidden her away where we couldn't find her. All that time they'd been deceiving us and had no intention of letting us see her at all."

"Lying, two-faced cunt-fuckers," Loz growls, still angry about it. Yazoo soothes him with a hand on his arm and an unspoken word.

"We did find something else, though. We discovered a room of glass tanks, like the ones we woke up in," the more feminine male reveals. "Floating inside those tanks were bodies, in all stages of development. Embryos, foetuses, children, adolescents. All of them were pale-skinned and silver haired. And all of them were alive. Not awake but clearly living and functioning, kept in a state of suspended unconsciousness until they too would one day be removed and experimented upon. There appeared to be three models, each based on Loz, Kadaj or I, each having our particular traits and characteristics."

Loz exchanges an uncomfortable look with his slimmer sibling.

"To see row upon row of own faces...we were stunned and sickened." Yazoo gives a reflexive swallow, delicately licking his dry lips. "We had no idea there were more of us, backups, in case we turned out unsatisfactory or imperfect. If any of us died during one of the tests, another copy could simply be plucked from a tank and the testing could continue uninterrupted. We thought we were the only ones in existence but there may very well have been others before us, other clones that weren't as strong and didn't survive as long as we had. For a long time Kadaj didn't say anything. He just stared at them, at these unfortunate, pale creatures that didn't ask to be made and didn't know what atrocities were yet to be performed upon them. Finally, he picked up a metal bar."

I feel Loz's hand tightening on mine. Also sensing his older brother's unease, Yazoo pauses. "Do you want me to stop here, Loz?"

The other gives a short shake of the head, pulling his fingers out of mine and running them through his hair, trying to hide how they're beginning to shake. "Nah, I'm cool. Keep going."

After searching Loz's face, Yazoo continues speaking. "Kadaj lifted the bar and broke the glass front of the closest tank. Liquid gushed out and a naked body slid to the ground. It was a child about six or seven human years of age. It was a Kadaj model, identical to him in every way. Kadaj knelt down and stroked its face but the clone-child didn't respond. It was completely comatose, as though brain-dead. Very quickly and humanely Kadaj broke its neck and ended its suffering, if it had ever felt anything at all. He ordered us to follow suit and together we started smashing the tanks open, one by one, letting the bodies slide onto the floor and extinguishing whatever miserable spark of life they may have possessed. The embryos and foetuses we left alone for they would soon die without being immersed in the fluid that sustained them. With the bigger, more developed ones we had to make sure they were dead, finishing them off by twisting their necks or with a hard blow to the temple. When released from the tanks most of them, like the first child, were unresponsive and inanimate but a few opened their eyes and looked at us."

Here Yazoo halts and stares off into the distance, his gaze vacant and unblinking, plainly haunted by the memory. I glance to Loz and he's got his trembling fist pressed to his mouth, frowning down at the floor and fighting against his overwhelming feelings. As hard as he tries to hold back, a tear falls down his cheek, followed by another one until he's crying in tormented silence.

"We killed them all," Yazoo drones numbly. "We killed our own brothers. Every last one."

"My Gods," I gasp in horror and shock, my own tears spilling over at the thought of all those helpless, innocent dying children. And babies.

They left tiny little babies to die on the cold hard floor.

"How could you do such a terrible thing?" Through blurred vision I look between Yazoo and Loz, my voice choked with appalled repulsion and bewilderment. "How could you kill ch-children?"

"We had to," Loz emphasises, his anguished watery eyes pleading with me for understanding. "Don't you see? We couldn't let them end up like us."

"Being locked up, experimented upon and brutally tortured every day...That's no life. Not for a child," Yazoo quietly agrees. "That's a waking nightmare and we had to make it stop before any more of our brethren suffered the way we had suffered."

"We were just kids, Cate," Loz mumbles, sniffing regretfully. "We thought we were doing the right thing."

"It's true. What we did, we did out of love," Yazoo whispers. "We set our brothers free."

"My Gods," I utter again, but this time I don't sound like I'm accusing them of murder. I just sound overwhelmed. Wiping my face, I try to think rationally instead of reacting emotionally. Who am I to judge these troubled young men for what they did in their past? I wasn't there. I didn't see what dreadful things they endured; I didn't experience it. I cannot possibly comprehend what these two, and Kadaj, have been though as a result of their unwilling creation and as such I am not entitled to lay blame or cast accusations over things I know nothing about.

Yazoo is trying to make me understand, though. What he's telling me is something he hasn't told anybody before - revealing the dark, damaging secrets of their past - and I appreciate how difficult this must be for him. And for Loz. Listening to Yazoo describe it all in detail must be like reliving it over again. I can tell by the lines of Loz's face and the stiff stance of his body how distressing it was, and still is, for him. Yazoo is better than Loz at containing his emotions but even the normally controlled sniper can't conceal his pain completely. His eyes are devoid of expression but that doesn't mean he's not suffering terribly inside.

"I'm so sorry," I eventually apologise to them, my tone meek and quiet. "I didn't mean to accuse you guys of anything. I can see how hard it was for both of you. It's just..."

I drop my gaze, instinctively clasping my rounded stomach.

"You're pregnant. Of course. How insensitive of me," Yazoo chides himself for talking about the babies they left to die. "Perhaps I should have skipped that part of the story."

"No," I hurriedly dissuade. "Don't skip anything on my account. Go on, Yazoo. I want to know the rest."

"Are you sure?" Loz peers at me worriedly. "We could continue this tomorrow if you're tired..."

"I'm not tired. If you stop now I won't be able to sleep anyway. Tell me the rest," I implore Yazoo. "Please."

Yazoo's slim fingers absently twist a long lock of his silvery hair as he nears the end of the story.

"After that, Kadaj went wild. He was punching holes in the walls, smashing furniture and screaming with rage, furious at not having found Mother and furious at what he'd been forced to do to his own brothers. He started stalking the scientists unlucky enough to be locked in the facility with us, finding them where they were hiding and murdering them on the spot, without an ounce of pity. As did we. We were all taken over with violent fury, wanting to make them pay for what they had done. Together, we slaughtered everybody in the building and then torched it, watching in satisfaction as the flames engulfed everything. We got up in the ceiling and crawled through an air conditioning duct, knowing that it had to lead to the surface somewhere along the line. Thick smoke was pouring in and choking us but we kept going. There was one point where the duct got quite narrow. Kadaj and I squeezed through it but Loz, being bigger than us, got stuck there. His wide shoulders wouldn't fit. He courageously told us to go on without him, to leave him and save ourselves but we couldn't do that. We all go together. That's our motto. So, Kadaj and I took hold of his arm and pulled with all our might. We had to dislocate his shoulders to get him through the space, one after the other. Though it must have hurt badly, Loz was so brave. He didn't even cry."

Here, Yazoo slants his big brother an admiring, proud look. Loz shrugs abashedly, like it was no big deal.

"We popped Loz's shoulder joints back into their sockets and navigated the rest of the way to the surface, climbing out into the city above as though we were being born, covered in blood and emerging with no worldly possessions but the clothes on our backs. On that day we were barely adolescents. We had no money and no home. We had no life experience outside of the lab and had nobody to guide us and show us how to survive in this complex world. We had to learn that by ourselves. We thought perhaps the people working on the Jenova Project would come after us and attempt to capture us again so we hid for months on end in dank caves and abandoned buildings, scavenging whatever scraps of food we could, taking turns to keep watch while the others slept. Eventually we realised they weren't coming. We weren't anything more to them than failed experiments. Just escaped laboratory animals. We weren't even important enough for them to search for," Yazoo says bitterly.

"Or else they just assumed we were dead. They created us and brought us into this existence but in the end, we were on our own. And we still are. We don't have any real friends or anyone we can rely on. All we have is each other. I know it looks like we've done well for ourselves now but everything you see here, we have worked hard for. We were once filthy, starving little street rats. We had nothing. If it wasn't for Kadaj finding us employment and turning this cavern into our home...we'd still have nothing."

Then he sits back, falling silent. The tale is over. And what a tale it is.

"You poor, poor boys," I whisper, reaching out to take Loz's hand. "What you've been through...I had no idea."

"Well, now you know," he says hoarsely. "Now, you see why we don't trust strangers."

Yazoo looks to me in caution. "What we've told you, Cate, you can never tell anyone else on this planet. Our very lives depend on it. Perhaps the Jenova Project is no longer operational but there still could be organisations out there that would pay to get their hands on us. Somebody still has Mother which means somebody is still interested. The world cannot know what we really are."

"I won't tell a soul," I vow. "I swear it. After all, my baby's life is at stake here too."

"We'll protect your child," Yazoo answers, knowing that it's my biggest fear and concern. "Family means everything to us. That's why we need to find Mother. When we find her we won't feel so alone. Our family will be complete."

I nod, understanding why they need to search for her so badly. If I knew my mother was out there somewhere, waiting for me to find her, I'd be doing the very same thing.

Even if she WAS an ancient creature from outer space.

"I must say, you're handling this quite well," Yazoo remarks with a lifted brow.

I smile humourlessly. "Oh, I'm totally freaking out inside, trust me."

"But you believe us?" Loz asks earnestly.

"I do. As far-fetched and impossible as it all sounds, I believe you. Though I gotta say, your story is even weirder than I expected. Clones? You guys are like something out of a science fiction film!" I even laugh a little. "Lucky for you I like sci-fi."

Loz seems immensely relieved that I'm not screaming my head off and trying to climb up the wall, even though that is certainly an option. I actually am a lot more freaked than I'm letting on. Finding out that aliens really exist is a bit of a mind-fuck. The fact that the baby I'm carrying is part-extraterrestrial also freaks me somewhat. But I've had five months to prepare myself for this. I always knew Loz and his brothers weren't human. Not entirely, anyway.

Yazoo gazes inquiringly at me with those unearthly glittering turquoise-green eyes. "What's your story, Cate?"

"I've already told Loz my story." I make a wry face. "Compared to yours, it's downright boring and ordinary."

"Loz did mention about you being an orphan and getting shuffled around various foster homes. It must have been tough for you, growing up without your real parents."

"It wasn't so bad," I reply quietly, thinking that nothing I've lived through compares to being locked in a laboratory and getting sliced apart on a regular basis. "As for the rest of my life...well, I after I finished high school I became a florist. I've been married and divorced. I rent an apartment in a shitty suburb. Now I'm knocked up with your brother's alien baby. There's not much else about me to know, really."

"How have you been since we last saw you?"

"Sick. That's partly why I haven't shown up earlier," I confide. "I wasn't well enough to set foot outside let alone do any detective work."

"You've had morning sickness?"

"More like all day and all damn night sickness." I grimace, remembering how many times I had to crawl to the toilet bowl or grab a bucket beside my bed. "At least for the first three months. Shit, I've never been so ill in all my life. I felt like I was dying. It was that bad."

Loz appears startled. "Is that normal?"

"I guess. Extreme morning sickness is pretty common," I tell him with a shrug.

Still gazing at me interestedly, Yazoo asks, "What were your symptoms?"

"You mean aside from puking my guts up every hour?" I reply dryly. "Let's see, there were dizzy spells, hot and cold chills, muscle cramps, joint pain – the works. Most days I'd be curled up in bed shivering and sweating simultaneously. I ached all over. I swear even my bone marrow ached. And there was this weird metallic taste in my saliva too." I swallow, testing my tongue against the roof of my mouth. "I can still taste that sometimes."

"Hey, Yazoo?" Loz turns to his brother with a frown. "That kinda sounds like..."

"Yes, it does," Yazoo answers, reading Loz's mind. He ponders me thoughtfully for a few moments. "That wasn't morning sickness, Cate. That was mako poisoning."

"What?"

"That's precisely how we felt after our injection sessions. Right down to the metallic taste. That's the taste of mako."

"No way!" I exclaim. "How is that possible?"

"Our bodies have extremely high concentrations of the substance. It's in all our fluids. Including our...DNA," Yazoo explains tactfully.

Not quite as tactful, I repeat in disbelief, "You're saying Loz's jizz made me sick?"

"But I used a condom, Yaz," Loz insists. "When I took it off, it was full. I don't know how she got pregnant, let alone poisoned by it."

"It wasn't your fluids that caused the poisoning."

"What was it then?"

Yazoo turns to me. "The baby is like a ball of mako sitting inside you. Your body tried to reject it but it appears your system has finally accepted this foreign substance, grown tolerant of it. That's why you're not sick anymore. With the mako and our alien cells, it's a miracle that you're still pregnant at all."

Glancing down at my belly, I lay a hand on my 'miracle'. "Like I told Loz, this kid _really_wants to be born."

"It would seem so," Yazoo muses.

I clear my throat. "I've also had other interesting...side effects...of this pregnancy as well."

Yazoo and Loz are staring at me with twin sets of glimmering mako-eyes, waiting for further information.

"I've been getting...um...images. Visions of you guys. It can happen anytime, anywhere. I just suddenly see you all in my head, like little flashes of a movie. It's like hallucinating."

"Visions, huh?" Loz looks at his gun-toting sibling. "Kadaj gets those. Doesn't he, Yaz?"

"Yes. He can see things in his head - events, people. Such as Mother. That's how he can talk to her."

"What sort of visions did you get about us?" Loz enquires curiously.

"Just you guys doing regular stuff. Like snippets of your life - sitting around the table eating dinner, talking, joking, training with each other, riding your motorcycles. Mostly they were of you, Loz. One I had recently showed you on your bike in the middle of the desert. A big snake came across your path and I thought you were gonna ride right over the top of it and kill it. But you didn't. You swerved around it, like you didn't want to hurt it."

"Well, I didn't. It has a right to live on this planet just like we do. Just because I'm a hit man doesn't mean I go around killing things for fun," Loz states in his own defence. "Besides, I like reptiles. They're cool."

"So, that really happened? What I saw was real? Not a hallucination?"

"Yeah. It happened last week. Ask Yaz."

"It's true," the other Remnant confirms. "I remember him coming home and telling me about it, excited about how long this snake was."

"It was HUGE," Loz repeats in awe. "I wanted to bring it back here with me but I knew Kadaj wouldn't let me keep it."

"I can only assume these visions come from the baby," I respond. "The first time it happened I thought I was going nuts but over time they got longer and more frequent. I'd space out and sometimes mutter things. Crazy things that made no sense. At least, that's what Shandi told me."

"Who's Shandi?" Yazoo asks.

"My roommate. Well, ex-roommate now. I was with her at the club. Tall, dark skin, black dreadlocks?"

"Ah, yes. I remember her. What happened? Why did she leave?"

"She moved in with her girlfriend a couple of months ago. The visions kind of weirded her out. I don't remember saying anything while I was having them but she said I did. She said it didn't even sound like me. I think I scared her and this may have been the real reason why she left."

I feel a pang, missing her friendship but knowing it's too late to repair it.

"Lately, I've been getting them all the time. Even in my sleep. I guess it was the baby's way of saying that I should find you. The baby wants to be with you guys. That's what it's been telling me. It wouldn't let me rest until I came here."

Both Loz and Yazoo are intently eyeing my stomach, as if they expect a little clone child to pop out and say howdy to them. But nothing happens, of course. The baby's not even moving right now. Normally, it's quite restless, shifting around and kicking me, letting me know when it's upset or when it wants me to do something. Like back in the forest. I'd get a heel in the ribs if I started going the wrong way. Damn kid's not even born yet and it's already telling me what to do. However, since I've entered this cave it's been very settled. Peaceful. I guess it's happy, now that I've found its father and uncles.

"So, what do your green genes mean for the baby?" I press the other two clones, needing to know. "What do you think it's going to turn out like?"

"I don't know. We've been careful not to breed with anyone before. But at a guess, it should look human. Mostly," Yazoo predicts. "It may have our eyes, it may have our hair. It may not, either. It may take after you."

"Doubt it." I snort. "If the kid's full of mako I'd say it's gonna take after daddy here."

I look to Loz, who still seems guilty that he got me pregnant and poisoned in the first place.

"The child should be very healthy," Yazoo says confidently. "It probably won't get diseases or illnesses. We never do."

I brighten. "That's a plus."

"It may have special powers." He glances to his bulky brother. "Possibly incredible strength, like Loz. Or even lightning-speed."

"Oh. Not so plussy," I mutter in trepidation, visualising a cheeky silver-haired toddler zapping away from me in a blue streak every time I try to do a diaper change or ripping the doors right off the kitchen cupboards to get at the cookies. "So, I might end up with a super-baby?"

"Quite likely. It appears that the infant already has some psychic abilities, if it's able to share visions with you."

Imagining all the possible parenting issues that could happen in the future, I groan, "Oh Gods, how am I going to be able to control a kid with super-strength and speed? Normal children are bad enough!"

"Don't worry about it. If they get too much to handle, just pass 'em over to me," Loz announces with a hint of fatherly authority. "I'll scare the brat into behaving."

"Right. We'll see," I drawl with a sceptically lifted eyebrow. "You'll probably be the softest dad in the world and won't even raise your voice at them. I bet they'll be able to wrap you around their little finger."

Yazoo gives a low laugh. "You may be right about that, Cate."

"Shut up, Yazoo!" Loz rebounds in annoyance. "I'm NOT soft!"

"Yes, you are. You're a big marshmallow."

"Well, you're a big bitch!"

"And your point is?"

Though I'd love to sit here and watch Loz and Yazoo bicker and tease each other, I find myself yawning, only just realising how late it is. "I should go. Can you please call me a taxi, Loz? On second thoughts, you better just take me home yourself. There's no way I'll get a cab driver to come all the way out to Freaky Forest in the middle of the night. It was hard enough getting one to bring me here in the first place."

"Don't leave!" Loz immediately protests. "Stay here. That's okay, isn't it, Yazoo? If she stays?"

"Of course. Our home is your home now, Cate. You may stay as long as you wish." The gracious, long-haired Remnant gets up from the couch, his leather coat creaking as he straightens, rolling his gloves off as he heads towards the exit. "I'm going to bed. If you have any other questions about our past, feel free to ask me in the morning. However, I'm sure Loz can help you with anything you need to know. He was there too."

"Okay. Oh, Yazoo?"

He pauses at the doorway and turns back to me, looking over his shoulder. "Hm?"

"Thank you for telling me everything and for being so honest." I offer him a smile of gratitude. "And thanks for not snipering me before, in the forest. I appreciate that as well."

Yazoo's lips twitch. "Don't mention it."

He leaves the room, disappearing down the corridor.

"Are you tired now?" Loz asks me. I nod, covering my mouth again as I yawn.

"Yeah. Sorry. Not that your story wasn't fascinating but it's also a lot to take in. My brain is exhausted from all this new information."

"C'mon. You can sleep in my room. I got a king size bed big enough for both of us. And your baby-belly."

"Sounds good," I reply, taking his helping hand and getting awkwardly to my feet. I'm both scared and excited to be spending the night alone with him. I know in the back of my mind that I'll be sleeping next to an alien but strangely, I'm not as worried about that as I probably should be. I've already gotten probed and impregnated by him.

What else could he possibly do to me?


	11. Sleeping Arrangements

A/N: Thank you guys again for all your reviews! Please enjoy this update and as always, I look forward to your thoughts. (Btw, Kadaj isn't in this chapter because it's more about Loz and Cate - and Yazoo - but he will be in the next one, back to being his mean, sarcastic sexy little self and causing all kinds of uncomfortable situations for the new girl ^^)

…

Part 11. Sleeping arrangements.

Loz leads me down the hall. I see a couple of closed doors, Loz pointing out which is Kadaj's room and which is Yazoo's. They're right next to each other. Apparently there's a gym at the end of the hallway, where they all train, and a couple of storage closets and linen cupboards. Loz's bedroom is next to Yazoo's, which I'm happy about. I couldn't go to sleep if I knew that a vicious little prick like Kadaj was right beside me. He ushers me in and shuts the door. Loz's bedroom is rather large and spacious, having the same curved cave walls and roof that the other rooms in the lair have and the same black and grey tones for the furniture and carpet. It's a lot messier, though. He starts tidying up, kicking worn underwear and socks under the bed and picking up thrash metal magazines littered over the floor, along with CD cases and empty salt and vinegar potato chip packets.

"Uh, sorry it's messy," he mumbles as he dumps an armload of used towels in the laundry hamper. "Wasn't expecting visitors."

"It's okay. You should see MY room at the moment. It's an absolute pigsty," I despair. "Doing housework is the last thing on my mind right now."

When he's made the place a little more presentable, he tells me to sit in a silver chair he unearthed from under a pile of motorcycle manuals. I bend forward in the seat to take my sneakers off, a task which is becoming more and more difficult as each month passes. Soon, I won't be able to bend over at all. I slip off my furry purple coat and drape it over the backrest of the chair behind me. Loz removes his tall boots, leaving them on the floor. Dark coloured vinyl has been laid down so Loz doesn't have to worry about tracking mud, sand or dirt in here from outside but there is a large soft, shaggy rug beside the bed for a touch of comfort. It looks like a nice rug to curl up on while reading a book. Not that Loz has any books in here, apart from the music mags and bike guides. He's got a stereo system in his room but no computer. He probably doesn't have the patience or the desire to use computers. Anyway, I don't think emailing or the internet would be of much interest to him. He'd be happier in the garage working on his bike and getting grease on his hands.

Rummaging through a chest of drawers, he asks, "You need something to sleep in?"

"Ah, so you DO have other clothing," I comment, spotting jeans, trousers and casual shirts in there. "I was curious about that."

"We only wear this stuff when we go out in public," he explains, gesturing to his futuristic super-suit. "It's an image thing. Kadaj's idea. He said if we were going to get people to fear and respect us, we had to have a bad-ass look."

"And head to toe black leather certainly does the trick."

"Yazoo made them for us. He's good with designing stuff."

"Really?" I remark, impressed.

"Yeah, when Kadaj found this cave for our base he told Yazoo how he wanted it to look and Yazoo did it. He designed the whole layout of the lair - worked out what materials to use, picked the colour scheme, flooring and all the fittings. He did the painting and the furnishing and added all the fancy finishing touches."

Eying off all the gleaming chrome accessories in the room, like light switches, door handles and coat hooks, I tell Loz, "He's got superb taste. This place is style-central. But surely he didn't do all this by himself?"

"No, we built it together. Just the three of us. We didn't bring in any tradesmen because we wanted to keep the location of the lair secret. Since he had the money, Kadaj ordered all the supplies on-line, me and Yaz picking them up from town and trucking them back here. I did most of the heavy labour while Kadaj mainly stood there bossing me around," Loz says with a disgruntled eye-roll, "but without Yazoo we couldn't have done any of it. He came up with all the ideas. Everything you see here, he created it. My brother doesn't care about much in this world but he really wanted to make this cave into the home we never had. That's why he worked the hardest out of all of us."

"That's incredible. You've all done an amazing job. Especially Yazoo."

"Make sure you tell him that. He'll be real happy to hear it. Here." Loz hands me a grey cotton t-shirt to use as a nightgown. "It's clean."

"Thanks. I didn't bring any other clothes. It's not like I planned to be staying the night."

"Do you wanna stay longer? Like, move in with me?" Loz offers. "We can take the truck and go get your stuff tomorrow if you feel up to it."

"Are you serious?" I look at him in astonishment. "You want that?"

He nods enthusiastically. "Yeah. And Yaz already said it's all right."

"What about Kadaj?" I pose dubiously. "He's not too happy about me being here at all. You saw the way he reacted when I first walked in. He nearly had a fit. I don't think he'll be very pleased if I just plonk myself into the home you all worked so hard to make."

"Screw him. If I wanna invite a girl to stay with me in my room, I have every damn right to! I helped build this house too." Loz's tone grows more eager and excitable. "So, what do you say? You want to live here? With me?"

"I dunno. I guess I could stay for a couple of days," I return doubtfully. "See how it goes."

"And if it goes good, you can stay permanently!"

Loz is really keen about this proposal but I'm not so much. I mean, we only met once before. We talked and had sex which made us feel close at the time but even with the recent visions I've gotten of him I still don't know Loz that well. But I guess that's why I'm here. To get to know him. He might be moving a little fast for me, asking me to shack up with him already, but at least he's not telling me to fuck off. I should be glad he wants me here with him. Nobody else wants me in the state I'm in.

"I'll think about it," I finally grant, noting all the reasons why staying with Loz might actually be of benefit to me. I'm getting sort of lonely in that apartment all by myself. Plus I'm way behind in rent. When Shandi left I didn't have to deal with her questions or strange looks any longer but without her share of money, I'm fast running out of savings. Yet, I don't want to sponge off Loz either. That's not why I tracked him down.

"Loz, if I do stay here, I won't be able to pay much in the way of board," I warn him. "Because of my morning-mako sickness, I haven't been able to work. I'm basically broke."

"Don't worry about money," Loz instantly dismisses. "I got a steady job."

"You're still a 'debt collector'?" I ask, using code for what he really is – a violent thug who threatens, bashes and kills people. I've had five months to get used to that too.

"Yeah. I still do that. Still pays well."

"That may be so but if I'm living with you I don't want you to support me while I sit around doing nothing," I protest. "I'll feel like I'm leeching off you!"

"You're having MY kid," he reminds me with a pointed look at my stretched stomach. "It's my obligation to support you now. You don't have to do anything in return."

Sensing my lingering anxiousness, he crouches on the floor in front of me, taking my hands in his. He's taken his gloves off and his fingers are gentle and warm.

"Cate, I'm not saying this because I feel like I have to," he stresses, his slanted silver brows drawn together in seriousness. "I'm saying it because I want to. I want to take care of you. And the baby. I want to do everything I can to protect you and keep you both safe. I can do that, if you'll let me."

His words fill me with a sense of security that I've been lacking these last few months living on my own with no help, company or backup support. Being with him and having him gaze at me like this – his eyes glowing with protectiveness - I know that I'll be sheltered and looked after and that's exactly what I've needed to feel for so long. When his lips sweep gently over my cheek, all the uncertainty and unease that's been nagging at me day in day out…it just fades away and I know I've made the right decision to come here and find him.

"Okay," I whisper shakily, affected by his nearness. "Okay, I'll stay with you."

His eyes glow even more, their swirling greenness caressing me with warmth. "I'll look after you real good, I promise. Anything you want, anything you need - it's yours. You're my girl now, Catey. I'll do anything for you."

The soft and caring nature of his voice makes me unexpectedly very emotional and I swallow hard before I do something embarrassing and weakly female, like cry. Godsdamn hormones. Since I've been pregnant I've turned into such a hormonal time-bomb, sobbing at the stupidest things like not being able to open a jar of gherkins by myself or seeing soppy cat food ads on television. Now is one of those times I'm ridiculously close to losing it and before I get tears and mucus all over Loz's leather jacket I blurt out, "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure. Yeah. Just through there." As I push to my feet, Loz looks at me. "You okay?"

"Never better," I chirp brightly, quickly ducking into the bathroom with the t-shirt he gave me and shutting the door before he sees the wet tracks that are already streaking down my face. Once inside, I wipe the tears from my cheeks and sniff back the other ones yet to spill over, desperately attempting not to fall apart at the seams. If he hears me bawling hysterically he might change his mind about having me stay here. Taking my mind off my stupid emotions, I gaze around at his bathroom. It's masculine and stylish, done in silver and black, just like the rest of this lair. There's a toilet, shower and long vanity unit with a mirror above it. Shaving instruments, cream and splash-on cologne sit on the top of the vanity. The room is an ensuite which means it's only attached to his bedroom which means the other guys would have similar ones too. They're clearly closer than ordinary brothers but it's good that they have their own space and privacy as well. It's also good for me because I'll be running in here every hour to pee and when I gotta go it's of the utmost urgency. It would be utterly disastrous if I had to wait for somebody else to vacate the toilet before I could get in there. If I thought I had a small bladder before, it's able to hold even less now that I've got a baby sitting on it.

I make use of the amenities and then wash my hands, holding them under the cold running water in the sink and then pressing my chilled fingers against my cheeks and eyelids in an effort to counteract the redness that crying usually produces. It's not too bad, though, since I didn't let myself cry that much. I don't think Loz will notice. I take off my top, jeans and socks, glad I shaved my legs this morning or else Loz would think he's shacking up with a yeti. I stand there in my underwear, wondering if I should leave my bra on or not. I decide not, because it will be really uncomfortable to sleep in and besides, I don't think Loz will molest me in the middle of the night.

Not that it'd matter if he did. It's not like he can get me pregnant or anything.

Unhooking my bra, I stuff it into the rest of my clothing on the bench and then slip his grey t-shirt over my head. It's friggin' huge, falling to my knees and elbows, more like a dress than a shirt, giving me modesty and my growing belly plenty of room. It's ideal, comfy sleeping attire.

I borrow some of Loz's mouthwash, since I didn't bring a toothbrush with me, spitting it into the sink and leaving me with that cool, fresh mint taste. I'm not sure if he's actually going to kiss me tonight but I sure hope he does. I haven't kissed anyone else since that night in the club and honestly, haven't wanted to. Not unless it was him. I stare at myself in the mirror, hoping he still wants me the way he did back then. I'm not as cute as I was that night with my Mohawk and smoky eyeliner but I still look okay. My skin has improved a lot since I've been pregnant, glowing the way it's supposed to due to all the increased blood flowing throughout my body and my hair is healthier and glossier too. I'm not wearing any makeup but if Loz likes me, he's gotta like me without it. I fluff the back of my hairstyle up, give my nose ring a quick polish to make the sapphire stud shine and then come out of the ensuite. Loz is making his bed, carefully tucking in the edges of the quilt cover.

Smiling, I say, "Did you change your sheets for me?"

He shrugs, putting clean cases on the pillows. "Yeah. They were due for changing anyway."

"Thank you," I return gratefully, not keen to sleep on dirty bed linen. If I know the male species, and thanks to my foster brothers I do, those sheets probably hadn't been changed in five or six weeks and would have been almost stiff with man-secretions like sweat and…well, we all realise what boys do in bed when they're alone. Guys are hot but sometimes they're also really, really gross.

Now that the bed is freshly-made, I climb onto it and sit cross legged, watching with interest as Loz starts getting undressed. He unfastens his jacket with practised ease, snapping the two criss-crossed chest straps off one at a time, the ends hidden underneath the armoured shoulder pads with press-stud buttons which he pops free first, letting the individual strips of leather dangle down his sides like unclipped suspenders. The straps must be permanently sewn on at the back. Once they're undone, it's just a matter of pulling the zipper down and shucking the whole item off. I watch this process with fascination because although I saw his nude chest in the nightclub bathroom, he never actually took the jacket off so I never got to check out more than the front of him. As he slides the leather from his upper body, I can see all the muscles in his powerful shoulders and arms flexing and bunching, as well as all the thick veins branching down them. It's an awe-inspiring sight.

I never saw his bare back either and when he turns around to hang his jacket up on a silver hook in the wall I make an impressed face, able to see every single muscle there too, each one rippling under white flesh with his movements. His body is shaped like an upside-down triangle, wide shoulders tapering down to a taut torso and trim waist, the chiselled v-line of his hips drawing my eye. I gaze at the curve of his spine, the small indents at the base of it just begging to be licked. His skin is pale and perfect; not a spot, not a scar, not a single blemish. He's like an idol carved out of alabaster stone and looks just as great from the back as he does from the front. And he hasn't even taken his pants off yet. Gods help me if he does that in front of me because I can't promise that I won't instantly pounce on him and shag him into the floor.

Alien or not, he's still the sexiest thing I've ever seen.

When he turns back around from hanging his jacket up, I notice a dark mark on his left upper arm that I didn't see before. A tattoo. I never knew he had one of those! Watching him get unchanged is girlishly thrilling for me, like a gift being opened little by little, each layer removed showing a bit more of the total package underneath.

Beckoning excitedly to him, I urge, "C'mere. Let me look at that."

He glances at his arm. "What? This?"

I nod eagerly, getting up on my knees. "Yeah. I love tattoos."

He raises a brow. "You do, huh?"

Coming over to me, he grins playfully and curls his arm up to show off his bulging bicep, letting me examine the ink-stain beside it, just below his shoulder. I take hold of his arm and peer closely at it. The shape of the tattoo is circular, a razor-sharp, three-pronged design very much like a ninja star. It suits him and gives him even more of a bad-boy edge.

"Wow." I run a fingertip over it. "That's wicked cool."

"Thanks. It represents me and my bros, how it's us against the rest of the world," he says proudly. "We all have one. Not in the same spot, though."

He really shouldn't have told me that last bit because of course the first thing I do is wonder where Kadaj's and Yazoo's tattoos are, if they're visible or hidden somewhere private. I know I shouldn't be thinking of Loz's brothers naked – especially not Kadaj who I hate and am not attracted to at ALL - so I'm glad when Loz distracts me by beginning to unbutton his tight trousers. Hand on his fly, he pauses, probably debating whether stripping off in front of me is a good idea or whether he should do it in another room. I mean, I've already seen what's under there but it's been months since that night in the club so I understand his hesitance, particularly with me staring fixatedly at his every move. I can't help staring at him, though. He's just too damn hot.

"I'll be right back," he finally decides, disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door, much to my disappointment. When he returns he's not naked – again to my disappointment – but he is wearing a sexy pair of loose silk pyjama trousers that sit low on his hips. They're black, of course, the gleaming fabric highlighting the ample bulge at his groin and the solid muscle in his thighs. And his chest is still bare, looking like a rock wall with nipples. That's enough to keep me happy. For now.

He dims his lights, leaving one lamp on beside the bed. He can probably see in the dark but I can't so I think that gesture is for me. Climbing onto the king-sized mattress beside me, Loz stretches out onto his side, arm bent at the elbow, propping his head up on his palm and looking at me nervously.

"So, are you turned off me now that you know what I am? And what I've done?" He asks uncertainly, the fingers of his other hand tracing fidgety patterns on his quilt. "Do you think I'm a monster?"

I shake my head, turning onto my side as well and facing him. "I always knew you were different. That's why I came here, specifically for answers. Now I have them, now that I know what you've been through…there's no way I could ever think of you as a monster," I say softly, gazing at his worried face. "You're still Loz with an 'L' to me; that sweet, funny, shy guy I met at the bar. You're still gorgeous. And I still want to be with you."

Even though I'm there with him right now, he still seems unsure. "You do?"

"Of course. Especially now that you're the father of my baby. We both want to be with you." I take his free hand and put it on my belly. Almost immediately, the baby moves. When he feels it, Loz's face shows a mixture of astonishment and enchantment.

"Yes, it's your daddy," I affirm with a smile, knowing the baby can understand me. "We found him, just like you wanted."

My stomach moves again, a little head pushing against Loz's palm.

"Look, Loz!" I grin excitedly. "He knows you're there. He's saying hello to you."

Loz glances up at me. "He?"

I nod. "I have a feeling it's a boy. Your son."

"My son," he says slowly, as if it's finally sinking in. "Oh my Gods. I'm gonna be a dad!"

And then he bursts into a sob, hugging me around the middle and resting his cheek on my rounded belly, his tears soaking into the t-shirt I'm wearing. I'm a little surprised by his sudden sobbing but touched by the genuineness of it, proving that the night in the bathroom, when he cried after the sex we had, it wasn't because he was drunk on firewater. This emotion…this is the real him. Under the massive muscles and surly gruffness he's just a big soft teddy bear and I adore him even more for it, stroking his hair with affection as he sniffles against my stomach.

Thinking of what Kadaj said, I ask guiltily, "Did you really cry when I left you in the club?"

"Well, I didn't do it there," he replies abashedly, confirming that he had indeed broken down over me. "It wasn't until I got home that I realised how majorly I fucked up. You were the nicest, most beautiful girl I'd ever met and I scared you away."

He sounds regretful and full of self-blame. "Kadaj and Yazoo could have handled the fight on their own. I should have stayed with you."

I stroke his hair again, forgivingly. "I wish you had too."

Shifting up from my belly so he can look at my face, he lifts his fingers and gently cups my cheek.

"Gods, I missed you, Cate," he confesses in a rough voice. "I wanted to see you so bad and looked everywhere for you. I went into all the damn florist shops I could find but everyone I asked didn't even know your name, let alone where you lived."

"You actually went into flower stores?" I ask in disbelief. "Where there are flowers?"

"Yeah, and being around all that stinky perfume totally grossed me out. It would have been worth it if I'd found you, though."

"I had to close my shop when I started getting sick. Oh Loz," I despair sorrowfully. "I had no idea you were gonna look for me."

"Well, I did. I kept going to that same club every weekend, hoping you'd be there and you never were. I went to other clubs. Same deal. Kadaj said you'd forgotten about me. He told me you weren't coming back and you didn't care about me so I should just get over you. But I couldn't."

"Neither could I," is my understanding reply. "I never forgot you, Loz. Not for one moment. This little person in here made sure I didn't."

Placing a palm on my expanding tummy, he grins happily at me. "We're gonna be parents."

"I know." I make a face of dread. "How scary is that?"

"It's not scary," he enthuses. "It's awesome! I can't wait to meet the little dude."

Though I'm thrilled to bits that he's looking forward to becoming a father, my tiredness niggles at me again, making me yawn and rub at my eyes. Noticing, Loz considerately pulls the blankets down, urging me to get under them. Joining me, he reaches around and turns the lamp off. It's pitch black in his room but as I lay on my back, I notice little pinpricks of yellow light on the cave ceiling.

"Hey! What are those?"

"Oh, they're just the glow worms," Loz replies nonchalantly, as if it's a common thing to have in one's bedroom. "They're harmless."

"They're lovely," I say in amazement. "They look like tiny stars."

I stare at them a while longer and then turn to Loz, the glow worms giving off enough illumination for me to see his face in the darkness, his deeply-set green eyes gleaming like those of a cat as he studies me too. His upswept silver hair glints with a metallic sheen. My short brown crop is slightly longer than it was, curling further down the nape of my neck, my fringe now long enough to tuck behind one ear. But he still looks exactly the same. I can make out the fine angles of his cheekbones, nose and chin, the sensual shape of his mouth. He'd almost be pretty like Yazoo if his hair was longer and his jaw line wasn't so broad and strong.

Struck by his utter male perfection, I whisper in awe, "You are so incredibly handsome, Loz."

Even in the darkness I can see the doubt in his eyes so before he can object I lean in and touch my lips to his, keeping him quiet. I made the first move in the club and it seems I'm doing it again tonight. But he doesn't appear to mind. I kiss him again and this time he reacts with a quiet groan, his mouth pressing back against mine and his hands going around my shoulders, pulling me closer. Leaning onto his chest, I feel that it's every bit as firm and solid as it was nearly half a year ago. Suddenly wide awake and excited, I lick coaxingly at his bottom lip and he opens for me, the tip of his tongue meeting mine with a jolt of moist intimacy. Moaning at the back of my throat, I close my eyes and deepen the kiss, holding his face in my hands, our tongues sliding together with sweet slowness. There's minty freshness on his breath but under that I can still taste him, and the sexually potent man he is, and it was definitely worth waiting for. After a few minutes of thoroughly tasting each other, I move my lips down to his jaw, kissing slowly along its chiselled line. His skin is still smooth, the whiskers of his curving sideburns coarse yet somehow soft, tickling against the tip of my nose. And Gods, he smells so good, so musky and manly and everything I've been longing for and craving.

Although my body responds to him and his to mine, we don't do more than kiss, touch and caress, stroking faces and running fingers through hair, getting familiar with ourselves again and the affecting feelings we still have for each other. My heart beats rapidly within my breast and Loz's does the same, pounding in his wide chest. I know he's hard for me because I feel it against my thigh through the silk of his pyjama pants, and I'm equally as ready for him, but we restrain our desire and stick to kissing and cuddling. It's been a long time since we were together and if we're going to make this relationship work we need to bond emotionally first before anything else can happen between us.

Afterwards, when the glow worms have turned off their electric butts and gone to sleep, I'm held in Loz's warm, protecting arms. He starts speaking to me, the cover of total darkness allowing him say things he might not have said otherwise.

"The first time I was with a woman," he begins in that low resonating baritone, "I thought she really liked me. I thought she cared about me, y'know? Turned out that Kadaj paid her to give me attention, to sleep with me. I had a fucking whore take my virginity."

Loz's words assume a bitter undercurrent. "It took me a long time to forgive him for that. I know he was just trying to help me out but it still messed me up a lot. The little asshole still does it, when he thinks I need to get laid. Even Yazoo sends girls over my way sometimes."

Gods, no wonder he thought I was a hooker when I came up and said hello to him. It's good to know it wasn't JUST the boots.

"Cate, I have to know…" He pauses uncomfortably. "Did any of my brothers ask you to be nice to me that night? You can tell me the truth. I won't be mad."

"No," I immediately protest. "Yazoo didn't ask me that. And Kadaj most certainly didn't either. Or pay me. In fact, he didn't want me anywhere near you, remember? I was nice to you because I really did like you. What we did together…how this baby was made…I did that because I wanted you, Loz. I wanted to be close to you and make you feel good."

"I wanted to make you feel good too," he admits shyly.

"You did, honey. Trust me, you did." My tone softens and I snuggle into him, my belly pressing against his side. "When you made love to me I felt so wonderful…I can't explain it. I've been thinking about that night every single day. And every single day I've been missing you."

"I'm here with you now, little girl," he whispers, cradling my smaller feminine figure with large, gentle hands. "I know I ain't perfect, or even human, but I'm yours for as long as you'll put up with me."

"I'm yours too," I whisper back, lifting my head towards him. "Now kiss me goodnight, you sexy alien clone."

I can dimly see his teeth flash in a grin. And then he leans forward, softly kissing me again.

…

I don't know how long I've been asleep for when I feel Loz shaking me by the shoulder.

"Cate. Hey. Hey, Cate, wake up."

"What? Whassit?" I mumble, groggy after being woken mid-sleep. I squint when he switches on the lamp and harsh light floods the room.

"You were talking in your sleep." He stares at me strangely. "Were you having a vision?"

"I don't know." I rub at my sticky left eye and wrinkle my forehead, trying to remember. "Could have been. What was I saying?"

Again with the strange, uneasy look. "Things. But your voice…it was totally different. It wasn't your voice."

I sit up, beginning to feel spooked. "That's what Shandi kept telling me. But I can never remember any of it, or what I said. What did I say?"

"Something about coming for us. That you'd be here soon. It was really weird," Loz admits, appearing a little unnerved. The fact that he – a hardened hit man who has seen and done things I can't even imagine – looks kind of freaked out starts to make me freak a bit as well.

"The next time it happens, record me," I impulsively instruct Loz. "You got a camera phone, right?"

"Yeah." He glances to where it's being kept on the small table next to his side of the bed.

"Don't wake me next time. Just get your phone and record it. I gotta know what I'm saying."

He nods, frowning. "Okay. I'll do that."

Shivering, even though I'm not cold, I slip back down under the blankets, hugging my chill-bumped arms. This whole alien-clone business…I don't know if I'll ever get used to it. I don't like the idea of talking in my sleep, especially with a voice that's not mine, saying things that nobody, least of all me, understands.

"Sorry I woke you," I mumble, moving closer to Loz so he can hold me.

He ends up going back to sleep but I don't.

Needing a drink of cold milk, I carefully fold the blankets back and get up. The glow worms on the ceiling are glowing again, seemingly recharged by the lamp that was on earlier, allowing me to find Loz's door without tripping over his biker boots. Out in the corridor there are no illuminated insects so I fumble my way through the dark in the direction of the kitchen until I find it, the digital microwave clock giving off a soft blue radiance. It's just past 4am. I go to the quietly humming fridge and take out a bottle of milk, setting it on the counter. Since I've been pregnant I crave the stuff, going through about a litre of creamy diary goodness a day. Guess the baby needs calcium to strengthen its bones. Leaving the fridge open a crack so I can use its interior light, I search the wall cupboards for drinking glasses but can't find them, only plates, bowls and plastic containers. I discover a blender, a juicer and a toaster but not a single glass. The cupboards are positioned up high and even on tip-toes I'm too short to see all the way on the top shelf. Damn tall males. Shutting one of the doors, I turn around to fetch a chair to stand on when I come face to face with one of those tall males and jump in fright.

"Fuck!"

"I'm sorry," Yazoo apologises. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Well, you did," I scold, covering my frantic heart. Usually it's Kadaj who does the terrifying appearing trick but having the longer-haired Remnant show up silently behind me like that still gave me a nasty shock.

"You almost made me drop the baby."

I'm being sarcastic but his fine brows pinch together in concern. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, just thirsty. I didn't want to wake Loz." I indicate to the bottle of milk on the counter top. "Is it all right if I have some?"

"Of course. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen," he graciously offers, tightening the sash around his robe, emphasising the trimness of his waist. His hair is straight and shiny, falling below his shoulder blades in a perfect silvery curtain. It looks way too sleekly flawless for this time of the morning. Maybe clones don't get messy hair or pillow-rumples or motorcycle-tangles. Maybe it's half silicone or something and never knots up. I breathe in and get a lung full of Yazoo's tantalising night-lily scent, something I have not smelled since working at the flower shop when I used to put them into bouquets for my richer customers. They are the most gorgeous, exotic-smelling flowers on the planet and my all time favourites. I didn't even know you could buy their perfume in a cologne. It smells really, really good on him.

Trying to ignore the urge to lean in and sniff his throat, I instead ask, "Where do you keep the glasses? I looked but couldn't find them."

"They're down here. I'll get you one."

Yazoo bends down to one of the lower cupboards and as he does so his hair falls away to the side, revealing a tattoo on the back of his bare neck. It's the same one Loz has on his arm and would normally be covered by the high collar of his trench coat. Nobody would see it outside this lair, not unless Yazoo was naked and someone was having sex with him from behind. I wonder if he lets men do that to him. I wonder if he likes it. I flush and banish the dirty, erotic notion from my mind in case Yazoo can somehow sense it.

After he retrieves a plain tumbler from the bottom shelf, the feminine-faced Remnant straightens and fills it up with the milk on the bench top, passing the full glass across to me.

"Thank you." I gratefully take a few swallows, aware of Yazoo's greenly-gleaming eyes on me. Normally, I would have felt excruciatingly self-conscious in front of him wearing nothing but panties and a t-shirt except the t-shirt is one of Loz's and is so huge it fits me like a dress, providing ample coverage of my breasts and blooming figure.

"I have a confession to make, Cate," he says, leaning back against the cupboards and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh yeah? What is it?" I narrow my gaze at him, thinking that it can't be any worse than what he's already told me. "You eat kittens for breakfast or something?"

He chuckles. "No, it's nothing bad. You know how I noticed your pregnancy this evening in the forest? Well, I noticed it that first night in the club too."

"I was pregnant then? When you were summoning your Shadow-thingys?"

"Shadow Creepers. Yes. Didn't you wonder why they weren't attacking you?"

"You told them not to?"

"I didn't have to tell them. They sensed that you were connected to us and that's why they didn't hurt you. And the only way you could have been connected to us – the only way you could have our cells in your body…" He makes an elegant gesture towards my stomach.

"Was through Loz's child," I finish slowly, shaking my head in wonder. "I can't believe he put his bun in my oven so quickly. I thought it took a couple of days at least. I guess alien sperm are fast swimmers, huh?"

He smiles at my joke. "Even if you hadn't been pregnant, I still wouldn't have let the Shadow Creepers touch you. Loz liked you. You were kind to him. For that reason alone you would have been safe."

"So, you've known all along about this baby? And you didn't tell your brothers? Not even Loz?"

"I knew you were with child that night. I didn't know if you'd be able to carry the foetus to full term due to what we were. I thought perhaps your human body would not accept the embryo and you would miscarry. I didn't want to tell Loz he was going to be a father and get his hopes up if it turned out that you lost it. Or that you'd aborted it. When we never heard from you I put it out of my mind, assuming that one of the two outcomes had occurred."

He slants a look at me. "But then, as the months went by, I started to sense a presence in the atmosphere, like another one of us, as if we had another brother out there somewhere. I wondered if it was Sephiroth returning but then Kadaj noticed it too. He already knew what our Father's presence felt like and he said this didn't feel the same. That's when I knew the child was still alive. And that's when I knew that sooner or later you would come looking for Loz. I knew his cells would call to the baby and draw it towards us, and that you would have no choice but to follow that call and seek him out."

And that's exactly what I did. I glance down at my swollen belly, wondering what would have happened if I hadn't come here, if I had chosen to stay away and not search for Loz. Would the child have resented me for it when they were older? Would he or she have gone looking for their father anyway? Or would the baby have simply shrivelled up from grief and died inside me?

It doesn't matter what could have been because that's not the choice I made. I chose to follow where I was being led and all that matters is that the baby is happy we finally got here. And so is Loz. Knowing that he's delighted about being a father makes me happy too and I know I wouldn't have taken a different path even if I could go back and change it. This is the right path. It may be rocky and unpredictable but this is the one I was meant to take. I knew it that night in the club and I know it now. My destiny lies right here.

With Loz.

"How come Loz couldn't sense it? After all, it's HIS baby."

"Loz's psychic ability isn't as developed as ours. He has a strong connection to Kadaj and I but not to anyone else. If he knew about the baby it would have driven him crazy and he was already upset enough at not being able to find you. I told him you would come back when you were ready and that he shouldn't lose hope at seeing you again but he was a very hard man to convince."

"Poor Loz," I whisper, imagining how he felt when he thought I abandoned him forever, especially after I promised I wouldn't hurt him or mess with his heart.

"Don't feel bad," Yazoo says kindly. "It wasn't your fault. Besides, you're here with him now. You know, you've made Loz the happiest man on the planet. Thank you for that."

"Hey, thank the baby." I shrug. "Like you said, I had no choice. This kid is the one who told me to come here."

"But you're the one who listened. I appreciate how difficult it must have been for you to face us again, particularly after what you saw us do in the club. Those violent things we did…we're not always like that. Out there, perhaps-" he gestures to the outside world, "- or when we are working a job but here in our home, amongst family…we're different. Because of how we were raised and how little human contact we had, we find it almost impossible to care about anybody else."

"Noticed that," I mutter, thinking of how he almost let that Shadow Creeper eat Justine right in front of me. Their lack of empathy for other human beings must be what makes them such excellent hit men.

Like he can hear my thoughts he replies understandingly, "I know I must have looked like that cold, impassive bitch you first suspected me of being, however, that's only my public persona. Contrary to the impression that incident must have given you, I actually am capable of caring. I let that girl go, didn't I?"

"Only because I begged you to. You didn't care about her."

"No, you're right," he agrees. "I didn't. She meant nothing to me and her death would not have weighed on my conscience."

"Then why'd you do it? Why did you listen to me?"

"I'm not sure." He tilts his head ponderingly, gazing across the room but not really looking at anything. "Perhaps I sensed that you and I would meet again. Perhaps I wanted to prove to you that I wasn't all bad."

He turns to meet my eyes.

"I just want you to know, Cate, that despite what I am and what I have done, you have nothing to fear from me. I did not wish you any harm that night and I do not wish it now."

A million thoughts racing through my mind, I gaze at Yazoo - this deadly assassin in the guise of a beautiful, mysterious young man. Most girls probably wouldn't believe him and what he just said. But for some reason I do. I saw him at his very cruellest in that nightclub but in my visions, I also saw snapshots of his softer, gentler side. Him smiling, laughing. Playfully teasing Loz. Hugging him. Brushing back Kadaj's hair. Carefully cleaning a cut on his little brother's face. The baby kept showing me that side of Yazoo, that affectionate, nurturing aspect, as if trying to tell me that I didn't have to be afraid of him. Besides, if he really wanted to hurt me, I'd be a corpse already. He could have shot me dead in the forest the moment I turned around. Before that, even. He had a gun pointed right at my head, ready to kill me, and now here he is, sweet as pie, acting all concerned and empathising with my predicament.

"I know you don't want to hurt me," I answer quietly. "But I also know it's only because of the baby. If I wasn't pregnant, there's no way you'd be this nice to me."

"Wouldn't I?" he counters. "Are you forgetting the little conversation we had in the club? I didn't have to be nice to you then."

I stay silent for a few moments, realising that he's right. After Kadaj scared the hell out of me with his threats, Yazoo was the one who came up and asked if I was okay. He didn't have to do that. He could have been on Kadaj's side and not wanted me to get together with Loz but Yazoo was the one who encouraged me to be with his older brother in the first place.

"We could debate the issue all night but it won't change the fact that you're carrying my brother's child. That is what's important here," he reminds me. "The baby's health and your health are of great concern to us. I'll admit we don't know the first thing about bringing children into the world but we'll learn. We'll find out what we have to do to help you so when the time comes we're prepared."

He touches my arm, his voice soft and reassuring. "Don't worry. You won't have to do this alone, Cate. I know Kadaj isn't being very helpful but Loz is here for you. And so am I."

His unexpected kindness, consideration and generosity overwhelm me and I feel tears pricking at my eyes. Blinking them back, I whisper, "Thank you. That means a lot."

Glancing down at the t-shirt of Loz's that I'm wearing, Yazoo comments matter-of-factly, "I hope my big brother has been very careful with you. You're in a delicate condition now and I know how rough he can be. It's probably safer if you're on top and not him."

His frank forthrightness causes me to blush in the semi-darkness. "Oh, no. We haven't...um, done…that," I stutter. "We've just been talking. Got a lot to catch up on."

"I'm sure you do. Try not to stay up too late, though. You need to make certain you get enough sleep."

"Okay. I will. Thanks for the glass of milk." And the embarrassing sex advice, I add to myself.

His lips curve, as if he just read my mind. "You're more than welcome. If there's anything else I can get you, let me know. Goodnight, Cate."

I'm still blushing as he walks away.

…

Later, I'm lying in Loz's bed, thoughts swirling through my head and keeping me awake. I'm thinking about what Yazoo said and what life is going to be like for me living here. I can't help being slightly anxious about it and how Kadaj is going to treat me. I know he doesn't like me and frankly, I don't like him either but somehow we have to learn to live with each other without causing too much conflict for the other two. I'm just not sure how we're going to accomplish that. Kadaj has a spiteful, cutting tongue on him and I suppose I'm no better. I never let anyone try to put me in my place or talk down to me as if I'm inferior. I'll always retaliate with as much scorn and nastiness as I'm spoken to with. I know it's Kadaj's house so perhaps I will be forced to attempt to tone down my cursing, tomboyish ways, just for the sake of keeping peace and being allowed to stay. But if Kadaj is going to be a horrible little jerk towards me all the time, I can't simply bite my lip and keep quiet. That's not my nature.

Loz is asleep beside me and unaware of my concerns. He didn't even stir when I came back from the kitchen. He must be one of those heavy sleepers who can only be awoken with a rough shake or a shout in the ear. I'm not. Little noises or movements wake me up all the time. I guess that will be useful when I have the baby, so that I know when it's awake and hungry in the middle of the night or needs its diaper changed.

With my overly sensitive hearing, I start to detect something that distracts me from my ponderings and I frown, turning my head towards the faint echo. Over the sound of Loz's deep, steady breathing I can hear somebody moaning and panting swear words. A male voice. I'm pretty sure it's Kadaj. I thought that since the walls around here are made of solid rock their bedrooms ought to be soundproof. Guess I thought wrong because I'm definitely not imagining this. The younger Remnant is fucking someone. Right now. There are soft answering moans filtering through the stone surrounds of Kadaj's room and into ours, counterpoint to his own, louder, sharper cries. I don't know who the second set of moans is coming from, probably some cheap slut Kadaj can kick out after it's over. I picture the strawberry-blonde stripper with big boobs I saw him cavorting with at the club. But didn't he say bringing girls back here was against the rules? Maybe different rules apply to him since he's the boss. Whoever he's with, I don't want to hear this as it's icky and invasive so I press one ear against the pillow and cover the other one with my hand, listening to the sound of my own breaths until I mercifully fall back asleep like Loz.


	12. Food For Thought

A/N: Hey, guys! I know it's been a while but I'm back. Thanks to all you lovely reviewers including MusicOfTheDawn, Elspeth, chance969, Natzilla and schwaerze. It's because of you that I keep writing this fic (even though it's in my own turtle-like slow pace .) and hope that everyone stays patient with me and likes where the story is going.

Summary: In this chapter Cate moves into the lair and you get to see a bit more of the boys and their home life, how they act when they're not being (too) scary and dangerous. Hope you enjoy!

…

Chapter 12. Food for thought.

After surviving my first night in the clone-cave with a bunch of assassins, I awaken sometime in the late morning, huddled in blankets upon Loz's massive bed. He's still fast asleep, his large frame sprawled across the mattress as though he's not used to sharing it with anyone else. I'm lying right on the edge, lucky he didn't kick me right off it and onto the floor. Yawning, I sit up. There seems to be some sort of automatic lighting installed in the ceiling that mimics sunrise, flooding the bedroom with warm golden light without any switches being touched. It must be so the boys know when it's time to get up, since there are no windows down here. The light doesn't appear to bother Loz, who's lying on his stomach and snoring into his pillow. I climb out of bed, quietly use the bathroom, fix my hair and put my clothes back on. He doesn't even stir.

I didn't actually get much sleep at all due to the talking we did, and then the steamy make-out session, followed by a spooky dream-vision I can't remember and later on, the sound of Kadaj having sex with someone, which I do remember quite clearly, unfortunately. I hope the slut has gone home already because I really don't feel like making small talk to anyone stupid enough to be seduced by Kadaj's obviously evil charm. Okay, that charm might be frighteningly hypnotising and very hard to resist but it IS possible because I did it that night in the club, shoved his sleazy hands away from me and told him to get lost. I'm rather proud of myself for that, considering most other girls would have given in to his persuasive promises and let him do whatever he wanted. Like the girl in his room last night.

But there are no strange faces to be seen when I make my way down the arched cavern hallway and peer around the doorway into the kitchen. There's only Yazoo in his robe making coffee in one of those expensive stainless steel percolators. Though he has his back to me, he senses I am there, turning to greet me with a small smile, his lengthy silken hair way too perfect and sleek for this time of the day.

Kadaj is sitting on the bench next to him with similarly sleek hair, only in a shorter style.

He's topless.

I try not to look but it's difficult. His skin is so white, contrasted against the stone wall behind him like a bleached beach shell on sand. The youngest Remnant is wearing black silk pyjama pants like the ones Loz has, only in a smaller size. There's a tattoo on his tightly toned stomach - a ninja-star. So, that's where his is. It's below the navel, just above his waistband, positioned to draw attention to his lower regions. It works damn well. I wonder how many women have looked at that while they've been sucking him off.

He glances sideways at me with cool hostility.

"Still here?" he drawls. "I thought you'd be long gone by now. I assume my brothers told you what we are."

"That you're all cloned alien freak-shows? Yeah, he did." I step into the kitchen. "No offence, Yazoo."

Yazoo smiles and shakes his head, proving that none is taken. "How'd you sleep?"

"Not so great. I had another vision. Apparently I woke Loz up with crazy-talk about some kind of arrival or reunion or something." At Kadaj's immediately interested expression, I add, "I can't remember what it was about, though, or what I said."

I sigh and pull out a chair to sit down at the glass-topped table, one hand on my protruding stomach. "I love this kid but I hate the weird shit that happens to me at random times of the day or night because of it. I have no control over those visions. That's why I hardly ever go out in public anymore. If anyone saw me rambling like that, I'd get locked away for being a madwoman."

"Reunion, hm?" Yazoo murmurs with his head tilted at me, seeming just as intrigued as Kadaj by what I was supposedly saying. "You could ask Loz to capture you on camera the next time you experience one of these prophecies. If we heard it, perhaps we'd be able to shed some light on the meaning of your words."

"I already asked him to do that. I hope you can understand what it all means and why this is happening to me because I sure as hell don't." I frown at him. "You really think they're prophecies, like stuff that's gonna happen in the future?"

He and Kadaj exchange a silent glance.

"Don't worry about it now. I'm certain we'll be able to figure it out in time," the middle brother assures me, preparing some mugs and getting out milk and sugar. "Coffee, Cate?"

"No, thanks. I read that too much coffee can be linked to miscarriages."

"Oh, I didn't know that," Yazoo replies with concern. "How about tea? Is tea safe for the baby?"

"Yeah. That's fine. Do you have Chai?"

"Actually, we do. I'm usually the only one who drinks it, though."

"You can keep your fancy fuckin' girly tea leaves," Loz grumbles as he enters the room scratching his head in an irritated manner, clearly not a morning person. He's still in his pyjama pants but has slipped on a tight black T-shirt that shows off his bulging arms and wide chest. His hair is surprisingly still in its usual swept-up style, even though it's been slept on. That's when I realise his hair is indestructible too, just like the rest of him. The only thing that could probably make it sit flat is when it gets wet and heavy but I bet as soon as the silver strands dry, they'd spring back into that curling pixie-peak again. That's why Yazoo's pearl-grey mane always looks so fantastic, with never a knot or a tangle to be seen. Despite its fineness and length, it simply doesn't get tangled. Ever.

Yet another reason to envy the bitch.

"Good morning, Loz," Yazoo greets his elder brother, getting a grunt in return. Leaning down, Loz pecks me clumsily on the cheek and I award him a grateful smile for making the effort. I know how hard it can be for men to show affection in front of others and I love how he's really trying hard to be a good boyfriend. Kadaj rolls his eyes at Loz's loving display towards me but Loz ignores him, not in the mood for his younger sibling's immature antics. Taking the top off the burbling percolator to check how far away the new batch of coffee is, Loz then yanks out a chair and slumps at the kitchen table beside me, yawning widely, evidently needing caffeine before he fully awakens.

Yazoo opens the pantry door to fetch the Chai mixture and I curiously peek in the narrow closet, spying foil bags of ground coffee beans, boxes of sports energy bars and tins of flavoured protein shakes, the kind guys use when they're weight training. I don't see any cereal, pasta, rice, flour or anything you'd normally expect to find in a kitchen pantry. The shelves are practically bare. That's single men for you.

Interrupting my scrutineering, Kadaj probes from his spot on the bench, "So, the knowledge of where we come from and what we are doesn't bother you?"

"Well, I guess it IS a little creepy," I confess, thinking of all the terrible things Yazoo told me about last night - what the boys are able to do, how their bodies heal, what powers they have. "Can you really do magic?"

"Of course I can." Kadaj seems offended that I'd even ask. "I can create or deplete energy, induce visions or spellbind people with black materia and I can summon creatures, like dragons or Shadow Creepers. You want me to summon one right now?"

"No, please don't!" I hurriedly answer in alarm as he raises his arm. "Those things are scary as fuck!"

"They're my minions," he states, sounding fond of those terrifying, sulphur-breathing beasts. "They do whatever I want them to."

"Yazoo can also summon them," I point out, clearly remembering how he brought five of them into the nightclub and sent them charging into the crowd just by lifting his hand.

"Yes," Yazoo affirms modestly. "We share some powers. But I can't summon dragons or do those other things Kadaj mentioned."

"Like this," the young swordsman says, opening his hand and spreading his fingers, a glow of blue electricity beginning to form in the centre of his palm. My eyes widen. He's smiling in an proud, engrossed manner as the energy gathers and expands, turning into a sphere about the size of a grapefruit which he then suddenly hurls towards me. I duck, thinking he's trying to kill me but he's aimed it well above my head. The glowing globe streaks across the room, Loz and Yazoo watching idly, even uninterestedly, as if they've seen this many times before. The blue sphere hits the far wall and blows up in a shower of crackling sparks, leaving behind a burnt scorch-mark on the stone. The smell of hot electricity singes my nostrils.

"Shit," I gulp, imagining how much damage that ball of energy would have done to a human body.

"And that's not even HALF of what I can do. I could make your head explode like a watermelon with one flick of my wrist," Kadaj boasts with a smirk. "Still want to stay here?"

"Nice try at scaring me off," I dryly reply, turning to give him a defiant look. "But it didn't work. Sorry to intrude on the neat bachelor pad you got set up here, Kadaj, but Loz asked me to move in so I guess I'll be sticking around for a while."

Kadaj instantly glares at his oldest sibling. "What the hell, Loz? You can't decide something like that without us having a family meeting and voting on it first!"

Loz shrugs. "So, let's have a vote. I vote she stays. Yazoo?"

"I second that vote," the longer-haired male answers without looking around, busy brewing Chai tea in a white china pot.

Loz grins triumphantly at his little brother. "That's two to one. You lose. Cate stays."

"Wonderful," Kadaj says with a sarcastic intonation, giving me a barbed stare. "I'm so looking forward to us becoming the VERY best of friends."

"Be nice," Yazoo mildly warns him.

"I WAS being nice."

"No, you weren't," Loz tosses back. He glances at Kadaj's bare torso and makes a noise of disgust. "And put a damn shirt on, would ya?"

"Why? Afraid your girlfriend might see something she likes?"

Kadaj slithers off the counter to stand directly before me, not as tall as Yazoo or broad as Loz but still a looming, fearsome presence nonetheless, and I feel tiny and powerless in front of his potent masculinity. He's extremely sexually alluring and he knows it. He smells just like he did in the club – all sinful seductiveness, like something very, very bad for you but something you can't help wanting anyway. He smirks at me through the silver layers of his fringe, fully aware of my unwanted attraction towards him. I feel myself blushing and look away from his all-too-knowing green eyes only to be faced with a smooth white chest, flat male nipples and a leanly muscled stomach. His tummy-tattoo demands my attention, standing out starkly on his pale skin like a burn mark, and I can't drag my focus away from it. I dare not glance down any further because then I'd be staring at his crotch and that's the last place I want to be caught looking at. Oh Gods, why is he standing so close? And why can't I look away?

Realising how Kadaj is intimidating me, Loz shoves his chair back and stands up dangerously. "Back off, Daj. Don't make me bust your pretty little face."

Kadaj smiles, undeterred by the threat. "Think I'm pretty, do you, brother?"

"You won't be in a minute," Loz growls lowly, his hands turning into fists. "I'll mess you up real good."

The younger Remnant humphs in a superciliously conceited manner. ""I'd like see you try, Loz. You forget I'm three times the clone you are. If anyone's going to get messed up, it'll be YOU. "

In that same patiently mild tone Yazoo remarks, "Stop it, you two. Kadaj, go and get dressed. We have company."

"Whatever you say, Father," he replies scornfully, but I'm surprised to see that he actually listens to Yazoo and starts walking away towards the bedrooms. "Oh, and Cate?"

Kadaj turns back around, emerald eyes slitting at me in warning.

"Don't even think you can change the way things are run around here. We all have jobs to do, including Loz, and I will not tolerate any interferences or interruptions to our plans or daily routine. I'm in charge and /I/ make all the rules. You better not forget that."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I mutter acidly. "Don't worry. I intend to stay right out of your way."

"Good. And I don't want to see your stuff all over the place, either. Keep it in Loz's room or I'll throw it in the lake." With that last shot he stalks off.

"Is he always like that?" I exclaim when he's out of hearing range.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Yazoo smilingly comments, straining milky liquid into a china cup.

"You know exactly what I mean. Is he always so…arrogant and infuriating?"

Loz lifts a shoulder. "Pretty much."

"You're the first girl that's ever been brought here. He's just not used to it yet," the elegant gunman tells me by way of explanation. "Give him time."

Time. Sure. I bet even if you gave Kadaj all the time in the world he'd still never get used to me being here. However, he got outvoted so there's nothing he can do about it but accept it. However, I'm grateful that Yazoo's on my side.

He sets the cup of tea in front of me and I thank him. It's steaming and the aroma is delicious - authentic, made with real leaves and spices, not some artificial pre-mixed flavouring in a bottle.

"Smells great. I really love your lair, by the way," I add in an impressed tone. "Loz told me how you designed it all. This place is stunning, like something out of a home style magazine. You did a spectacular job, Yazoo."

His smile is pleased yet modest. "Thank you very much. We don't normally entertain or have visitors so it's nice to hear an outside opinion."

I smile back. "You're welcome. Thanks for letting me stay."

As I sip my tea, an odd thought crosses my mind. If I'm the first girl who's ever been bought here, then who the hell was Kadaj with last night? I distinctly heard two voices. Two moans. Hm…maybe it wasn't a girl. Maybe it was a boy. Maybe he's bisexual. There were men touching him on the dance floor at the strip club and he didn't push them away. He didn't seem to mind. Maybe the pervy little freak likes dick too. If he was with a boy last night, I just hope Kadaj left them alive and uninjured afterwards and not dumped in the woods like a murdered prostitute. He is an assassin, after all, and hurting people seems to get him off. Perhaps the whole forest is covered in shallow graves, belonging to people that he's fucked and killed, people who have seen the lair but not been allowed to live to tell anyone where it is. A chill runs down the back of my neck at that thought. I could ask Loz how many dead bodies are buried out there, but I'm not sure I want to know the truth.

It's probably best if I don't even think about it.

The coffee machine finishes bubbling and Yazoo pours Loz a big mug of it. Black. I don't know how he can drink it that way. When I could consume coffee, I had to mix in three spoons full of sugar and a hearty dollop of cream before I could even think about drinking it. But this tea is amazing and it's got enough spice and flavour to not need any added sweetening. If Yazoo keeps making this for me, I won't even miss coffee.

There's no food on the table so I assume Kadaj and Yazoo already had their breakfast. Either that or they don't usually eat it. Come to think of it, I didn't see a lot in the fridge last night either when I opened it - mainly milk, cold water, bottles of wine and beer. There were a couple of partially-full takeout containers on the middle shelf but who knows what's in them or how long they've been sitting there. Perhaps clones don't need to eat much. I'm ravenous, as I always am in the morning. Neither Loz or Yazoo seem to notice my hunger, chatting among themselves about what modifications they want to make to their bikes as they drink their coffee. They don't even ask if I want anything else, assuming that a cup of tea will be enough. These guys obviously have no idea about living with normal humans, especially pregnant ones, because if they did, they'd know that we need to ingest half our bodyweight in sustenance every day. Approximately. I hate being a pain in the butt and I don't want them to go to any special trouble for me so I don't mention how hungry I am. Besides, I can grab something when I go back to my apartment. I have food there.

When I drink all my tea, I leave Loz and Yazoo to finish their man-talk. I need to go to the bathroom again. Damn thimble-sized bladder.

When I enter the tiled room, I stop dead in my tracks, gasping in shock and clutching my belly. "Loz," I yell out in panic. "Come here, quick!"

He flashes over from the kitchen in a streak of blue light, sounding highly concerned. "What is it? Is it the baby?"

"No, it's not that," I assure him, keeping my eyes glued to the toilet and what's sitting on the lid of it. "Look! There's a big fucking lizard in here!"

He follows to where I am pointing and relaxes in relief, his worried frown disappearing. "Oh, that's just Freddie. Don't worry - he won't hurt you."

I blink in surprise as he goes over to the large grey lizard and holds out his hand, making a soft whistling sound. The lizard climbs onto his forearm, wrapping its scaled tail around Loz's wrist, lazily flicking a tongue in and out.

"Dude…That's your PET?"

"Well, Kadaj won't let me have a dog." Loz lifts a shoulder, as if it's perfectly normal to have a huge cold-blooded reptile living in one's bathroom. "You ain't scared of lizards, are you?"

"No," I hastily reply. "I just didn't expect to see one on your toilet seat, that's all."

"Freddie roams freely about the cave so you might see him in odd places," Loz explains, gently scratching his lizard's head. "You'll get used to him. Hey, you wanna pat him? He don't bite."

I swallow, nodding bravely and coming closer. I love animals and lizards are animals. I've just never been this close to such a big one before. He's longer than Loz's arm. But Freddie barely even moves when I hesitantly touch his back. His skin feels dry, leathery and slightly coarse. His eyes are slitted like Loz's but they are a creamy yellow colour with orange iris-patterns instead of mako-green.

"What's he eat?"

"Raw meat. Bugs. Any insects that get down here, Freddie will chase them down and clean 'em up. I only have to feed him once a week."

Freddie yawns, unbothered by us talking about him. He has a pink tongue.

"He's cute," I admit, starting to smile. "And he's got your eyes too."

"Funny, Cate." Loz reluctantly grins, taking the reptile over to a chair and draping him across the back of it. After he's put there, Freddie raises a front leg and idly scratches his neck, returning to his former position and just sitting in one spot, unmoving except for the faint in-out motion of his ribs as he breathes.

"He's pretty lazy. If you wanna move him out of the way, just pick him up," Loz tells me, trailing a fingertip softly down Freddie's spine. "He won't care."

Watching Loz and how carefully and lovingly he handles his pet makes my heart melt. If he can treat a rough, scaly lizard this way, he'll have no problem handling a soft, squishy baby.

Under the lethargic eye of Freddie, Loz pulls on a pair of black jeans and a hooded sweater that nicely shows off his fit torso. I guess he's going incognito today, leaving his leather hit-man suit in the cupboard. He shoves a gun (much smaller than his usual one) down the back of his pants, puts on his boots and takes me up the passageway to the garage, carrying me in his arms just because he can.

Boy, do I love a guy with muscles.

We leave in that rattly old truck and head back to my apartment to get all my stuff. Even though our vehicle is barely holding together with its own rust, it's still so cool pulling out of a hidden cave-garage and roaring away into the woods like superheroes, the boulders sliding back together after our departure. The crystal forest sure looks different during the day – the trees don't have that eerie white iridescence and it's definitely not as scary. In fact, it might even be a nice place to have a picnic.

I soon discover that Loz drives the truck the same way he probably rides his bike – fast and fearlessly. Well, as fast as a rusty three-wheeled cart will go, anyway. At first it's fun but then I start to become a little concerned by his reckless driving (not to mention slightly ill), clipping the passenger seatbelt under my belly and hanging on to the armrest on the door, watching trees go whizzing by at an alarming speed.

"Uh, Loz…" I venture hesitantly, starting to fear for my life. "Do you think you could possibly slow down a bit?"

He puts the brakes on when he realises how much I'm getting jolted around, profusely apologising for not thinking of my comfort and safety. I smile to let him know I'm all right but I keep my seatbelt on.

I can tell it's new for him, having to worry about someone else. Being so strong and virtually unbreakable, Loz must be used to not caring about anything or worrying about any dangers on the road or elsewhere but now he's going to become a father and he has to rethink the way he does everything, at least when I'm around. After that, he drives much slower and more carefully, not wanting to hurt me or the baby. He's quickly learning what it means to be responsible. By his actions, I know he's taking this whole fatherhood thing seriously, which is great to see. I couldn't be with him if he refused to change his careless, single-guy ways.

When we get to town, I direct Loz to my shit-box apartment. He parks around the back and I let him in, mumbling about not minding the mess that I haven't cleaned up for weeks. My place is not very big at all. The whole living space is about the same size as Loz's bedroom. Only nowhere near as modern and stylish. My apartment is old - there are cracks in the walls and stains on the carpet, there's mould and water-marks on the ceiling and half of the lights don't work but I've tried to make it as homey as possible with lots of quirky, cute things that reflect my personality.

Gazing around at all the matching décor, Loz remarks with amusement, "One guess what your favourite colour is. Now I know why you were drinking all those purple cocktails."

I grin sheepishly, scooping up a lavender-scented teddy bear and smelling its fluffy head. "Yeah. I'm obsessed with anything purple. I don't know what it is. I just love it. And it's a unisex colour so most of my baby things are purple too. It can be worn by girls, just in case I'm wrong about it being a boy."

"You got baby things already?"

"Well, it's due in only sixteen weeks and that time will fly by. I had to start getting prepared. Wanna see what I've bought?" He nods and I slide a box from under my bed. Loz sits down, peering at each item as I bring it out to show him – little outfits, bibs, socks and shoes, gloves and hats, cloth diapers and fasteners, blankets and wraps, bottles and teats, bowls and spoons, pacifiers and teething rings, as well as assorted baby bathroom products like no-tears shampoo, skin lotions and soothing creams. I also have a selection of baby toys. It's a substantial stash of stuff but most of it is necessary. I didn't realise how many things babies needed until I started buying them.

I had thought that Loz might be bored looking at all this girly maternity stuff but he actually isn't, the buff biker interestedly asking questions about what each thing is, what it's for and how to use it. He even has a go at pinning a diaper onto one of my teddies, frowning with concentration as he tries not to stab the soft toy with the safety pins in his large fingers. With a grin of success, he holds the bear up. The diaper immediately falls off and I laugh, promising to teach him how to do it properly by the time the baby is born.

Holding up a tiny pastel purple jumpsuit with polka dots, I lay it against my belly. "Hard to believe in just four months this suit will be filled out, huh?"

"I know," Loz mutters, sounding a bit overwhelmed. "How am I gonna hold something so small without squashing it or breaking it?"

"You'll be fine," I assure him, smiling at his endearing nervousness. I've seen and felt how tender and gentle he can be and I have no doubt that when he's holding our son (or daughter) in his arms, that fragile child will be treated like the most precious thing on the planet.

I put the baby things away, leaving the box on my bed. Surveying everything else that has to be cleaned up and packed, I decide I need to build up some energy first, going to my fridge and opening the door. I'm friggin' starving. Not that I don't adore my child to bits, but if I don't hurry up and feed the life-sucking parasite, it will start kicking the hell out of my ribs. It's a vicious little demon sometimes.

"You want something to eat, Loz?"

"No thanks, babe. I'll start taking things out to the truck. What do you want shifted first?"

"Leave the furniture. Most of that was here when I moved in. Except for that wooden rocking horse - I'm keeping it." I grab a tub of yoghurt from the refrigerator shelf. "You can start with my book collection if you like. And my music discs. And those carved animal figures on the shelves."

"You got it."

While Loz is loading up armloads of books and stacking them in piles to be carried out, I get some diced fruit and mix it into the yoghurt, along with a sprinkle of muesli. I also get a big glass of milk and a few oatmeal cookies.

As I'm sitting at the kitchen counter munching on my late breakfast, I query with a full mouth, "Do you and your alien brothers photosynthesise?"

"Photo-what?" Loz repeats, looking up with a wood cat statue in his hand

"Do your cells make their own food? Because I didn't see any in your fridge. Or your cupboards. All I saw was coffee, energy bars, and protein shakes. None of which I can have."

"You can't have energy bars? They're chocolate-chip flavoured."

"They sound yummy, yeah, but they wouldn't be suitable for pregnant women. Too high a dose of minerals or whatever in them." I bite into a cookie. "Don't you guys ever prepare meals?"

"You mean, cook?" Loz gives me an arched eyebrow. "We're dudes. We hate cooking."

"So, you live off takeout all the time?"

"Just about."

"Healthy," I remark in a dry tone. "But then again, being a super-creature means you've never had a weight problem in your life, have you?"

"Not really." Realising that he now has to think about my nutritional needs, and the baby's needs too, Loz reluctantly replies, "Guess we'll have to go grocery shopping. I'll take you to the markets as soon as we're done here."

"Thanks. But I'm not cooking for everyone," I firmly announce, asserting myself now before the boys all start treating me like their live-in chef and maid. "And I'm not doing all the cleaning and washing, either. I mean, I'll keep your room tidy, since I'll be living in it, but as for the rest of the lair, forget it."

"Oh no, I wouldn't expect you to do that anyway," Loz quickly assures, looking mildly horrified . "Especially not since you're pregnant. Besides, me, Yaz and Daj already have a cleaning system in place – the lair is divided into three parts and we all keep our part clean. We already do all the housework so you won't have to lift a finger."

"I did notice that it was very tidy down there," I admit. "You know, for three guys living together. I thought everything would be a lot dustier than it is."

"Well, we don't shed skin cells like normal humans. That's what the main cause of dust is, did you know that? Dead skin cells floating around in the air?"

"Really? Ewwww." I wrinkle my nose, imagining breathing in someone else's discarded flakes of skin.

"Plus, we're so far underground that surface dust and dirt doesn't reach down there." Loz shrugs. "Apart from a bit of sand that falls from the roof, we hardly have to clean anything anyway. So don't worry about it."

I'm glad he told me that. It's nice to know that I can spend the rest of my pregnancy taking it easy and staying off my aching feet instead of running around picking up after everybody. I'll have enough of that to do when the baby gets here.

After I finish eating, I wash all the week-old dishes in the sink and then help Loz pack my belongings into bags and boxes. I actually have more crap than I thought. Anything that I don't need or that isn't worth keeping, I toss into the garbage bin. Anything that someone else can use, I leave on the floor or on the shelves. I'm betting that as soon as I've gone, people from the rest of the apartment building will come out like cockroaches and scavenge what's left inside the room anyway.

As I'm emptying my clothing drawers, Loz spies an old plastic bracelet laying on top of my dresser. It used to be neon pink but it's dull and cloudy now. Picking it up, he queries, "Hey, is this the one from the club?"

"Yep. The very same."

He shakes it. Nothing happens. "It don't glow anymore. Why'd you keep it?"

"Because YOU gave it to me, Loz. That's why." My voice turns uncharacteristically shy. "It reminds me of the wonderful night we had together."

He stares at me with that intense half-frowning look of his. "I gotta show you something," he blurts, putting down the bracelet and pulling out his wallet. Reaching into one of the flaps, he brings forth an earring.

"Hey, that's mine!" I gasp, snatching it out of his fingers. "You found it!"

"Actually, I didn't. I kinda…took it. In the bathroom that night." Loz looks down in guilt. "Please don't be mad at me."

My jaw drops. "You STOLE it from me? Right out of my ear?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I thought it was pretty, like you." He shifts his feet, rubbing his elbow in awkwardness. "You can have it back now."

Finding the whole stealing thing incredibly adorable, I just smile and pass the dangly silver piece of jewellery back to him. "Keep it. I don't even know where the other one is anyway."

"Phew. I'm glad you're not mad." Grinning bashfully, he slips it back into his wallet. "The truth is, I just wanted something to remember you by, in case I never saw you again."

My chest tightens, realising that he only took my earring because he didn't truly believe I'd want to be with him a second time. He still kept it even after he thought I forgot all about him. Touched by Loz's sweet sentimentality, I go up and hug him around the waist, leaning my head against his solid chest.

"Oh, Loz. Keeping these little mementos…I guess we really did miss each other, didn't we?"

"I know I did," he gruffly affirms, hugging me back and planting a kiss of gratitude into my hair. "Cate, it means a lot that you came back for me. I totally didn't think you would so…Thank you."

"Well, thank you for not turning out to be a jerk like your little brother. You're a real gentleman, Lozzie." I grin teasingly up at him. "I couldn't have picked a better guy to fertilize my egg."

He chuckles. "You're welcome. It was my pleasure doing that, anyway."

I smirk at him. "Yeah, I bet it was."

We exchange a few playful kisses before grudgingly getting back to work, Loz refusing to let me lift anything heavier than a bag of sugar might weigh, immediately scolding me and taking it out of my hands if I try. I know he's just trying to protect me but I am so used to doing everything by myself that's it's hard to sit back and let a man do it when I feel perfectly capable. I suppose I better accept his protective nature because I don't see that part of him changing anytime soon. At least he cares and he's right anyway – I shouldn't be carrying heavy things in my condition. The baby's health and safety come first, not my girl-power beliefs.

When the truck is packed and my apartment is almost empty, I have one last look around and then turn my back on it for ever. It used to be my home but I won't miss the place. It always leaked when it rained and the hot water system didn't work most of the time. Drug deals were made down the hall and I regularly heard yelling and gunshots. The stench of illness and death has seeped into the crumbling walls. Half the tenants living there have been afflicted by the black, cancer-like curse of geostigma currently sweeping across the planet. Some of them were my friends but they're gone now. The other people in the building, the healthy ones, didn't give a shit that I was pregnant, alone and nearly dying of mako-sickness so there's nothing much to miss here. I'm going to a new home now, one that's warm and safe and best of all, Loz lives there.

Before returning to the cave, he takes me out to the markets where I choose a bagful of fruits, vegetables and plant-based provisions for myself and then we have lunch at a café. Loz is beginning to learn about my perpetual hunger. I guess the sound of my stomach growling like a wild beast whenever I smell food pretty much gives that away.

He's keeping a close eye on the customers coming into the cafe, watchful of anyone who may seem suspicious. I also note that he seats us against a wall near the exit, in case we have to make a quick getaway, I imagine. With the wary way he's acting, I assume he's got enemies. I don't dare ask how many. But it's comforting to know he's between me and the door, so that he can shield me with his broad body if anything happens. Thankfully, it doesn't. He orders and food comes. While I'm shovelling down a vegie-burger with the lot, Loz just has coffee. He won't even have any of my fries when I offer them to him.

"You're STILL not eating?" I query with a drip of tomato sauce down my chin. "Even after all that heavy lifting?"

He simply shrugs. "Our metabolism is kinda different to humans. Slower. We only require one meal a day. Mainly protein. Yazoo says we burn it off over a longer period of time so that we have a steadier, more constant level of energy."

"Like reptiles or something?"

"I suppose." Loz frowns in thought, his gaze narrowed watchfully on the café entrance. "Yeah, sort of like that."

It wouldn't surprise me if Loz and his brothers do have reptile DNA in them. That would explain their pupils, their predatory nature and the fact that Loz likes lizards and snakes so much.

"You got some… stuff…" Loz gestures to my chin and I absently wipe the sauce away, staring at Loz's eyes again. At the moment they look relatively normal but when he goes into direct sunlight, his pupils slit up faster than a slammed door.

"We have those energy bars and shakes after training occasionally," he continues, taking a gulp of his black coffee, "but only one solid meal and that's at night."

Swallowing the last of my fries and licking salt off my fingers, I lament, "Wish I only had to eat once a day. I'm hungry like, ALL the time."

"Sometimes, when we're really busy, we don't eat at all," Loz volunteers. "We got tested for that, you know back in the lab, to see how long we could survive without food. Turns out we can go for weeks without eating. The scientists starved us nearly to death before they stopped the experiment. We think they were waiting to see if we'd resort to cannibalism."

I freeze, staring at him even harder. "You're kidding."

"Wish I was. Kadaj said they must have done it to the other clones before us. Those guys probably DID feed on each other. But we wouldn't have. We'd kill ourselves before doing anything like that." To lighten the shocking subject matter, Loz cracks a joke. "Besides, wouldn't get much meat off Yazoo's scrawny ass anyway."

Suddenly I don't feel like eating anymore. The thought of three innocent boys locked in a room for weeks with no food, slowly starving and losing hope while men in white coats stood back and emotionlessly watched it all, recording every move in their notebooks to be analysed and evaluated later… It's horrific. I don't want to believe such cruelty exists but it clearly does. What kind of world am I bringing a child into?

I'm quiet on the drive home, wondering what would happen if those scientists ever got their hands on my baby, and Loz asks me what's wrong. I just tell him that I'm feeling tired, which is true. The baby demands a lot of energy from me. Once I've shifted all my stuff into Loz's room, I really am fatigued so I climb into his bed for a nap. Freddie is nowhere to be seen, probably hunting bugs somewhere else in the lair. I hope he shits a big slimy one on Kadaj's pillow. That silver-haired psycho has been glaring death-daggers at me all afternoon for intruding into his home, even though he lost the vote of whether I moved in or not.

Loz stays with me while I sleep, lying behind me, his arm protectively around my middle. Thankfully, I'm too exhausted to dream or have creepy visions.

Sometime later, he wakes me up to ask if I want dinner because they're going to get some noodles but I'm too sleepy to drag my ass out of bed. Getting up sounds like too much effort for me, especially when it feels like I have a sack of cement tied to the front of my body. Insisting that I have some nourishment, Loz makes me a hot chocolate with extra malt, sitting on the side of the bed to make sure I drink it. He's so sweet. After puking in a bucket for three months with nobody to empty it or wipe my clammy forehead, it's nice to have someone actually show concern for me and my wellbeing. I definitely could get used to this.

"We're gonna be gone for a little while. There's something else we gotta do before dinner," he tells me ambiguously. "You think you'll be okay here? I can stay behind if you want me to."

Remembering what Kadaj said about them having routines and jobs that he doesn't want me interfering with, I quickly shake my head, not needing to piss Loz's volatile younger brother off any more than he already is.

"No. I'm good. You go do what you have to."

"You'll be totally safe. Nobody can gain access to our lair but us. If you need anything, Cate, just call me." He hands me a new cell phone. "My number's already programmed in."

Peering at the signal bars on the screen, I query, "You get reception from down here?"

"Yeah, works fine. Call and I'll come straight back if you need me, all right?"

"Thanks. But I'll be okay," I yawn, setting the phone beside me. "Besides, I got your glow worms keeping me company."

I glance up to where they are on the ceiling, just starting to shine like little stars in the dim room.

"Freddie doesn't eat those, does he?"

"Nah. He can't be bothered climbing all the way up there. See you later, beautiful girl." Loz kisses me on the forehead before getting up, his leather suit creaking as he moves. "Bye, little dude. Don't kick your mom too hard."

He pets my tummy fondly. I note that he's got Dual Hound strapped on, as well as his thigh-gun. The sight makes me uneasy. He's probably going out 'debt collecting' or whatever. I don't ask as I don't want to know. All I say is:

"Be careful, Loz."

He grins confidently at me, switches on his electric arm-weapon and leaves. I shouldn't be worried about him. He's been doing this job for years so he surely knows how to take care of himself by now. Plus he's got Yazoo and Kadaj watching his back.

I soon hear the echoed rumble of motorcycles exiting the garage, taking all three brothers outside on their mission and leaving me alone. I suppose some girls would be afraid to be left by themselves in a strange place but I'm not one of those girls. I've been living by myself for months so I'm used to it. Anyway, this whole cave is about a mile under the surface and the entrance is hidden by enormous boulders. That might make some people feel claustrophobic and trapped but I don't. I love this lair. It's spacious yet secure, a virtual below-ground fortress, and I've never felt safer. The whole room is filled with Loz's scent and it reassures me, knowing that he's going to look after me and our baby and that he's going to be a part of our lives, protecting us and caring for us, being the devoted father that my child needs and the loving partner that I need. I can't believe how much my life has changed in such a short space of time. I've gone from having nothing and nobody, to having almost everything that I've ever wanted.

If I ignore the fact that Kadaj wants to kill me and bury my body in the forest, I could probably be really happy here.

But with everything I've gone through in the past, I have a depressing feeling that this cruel planet won't make it so easy for me...

…

A/N: This isn't gonna be a big sappy romance-fest now that Cate's moved in. Things are not going to run perfectly to plan and there will be a lot of conflict, I can guarantee it. Hope you liked! Please let me know what you think :)


	13. Daily Life in the Lair

**A/N: This is dedicated my beautiful friend BMIK. Hope this cheers you up and makes you forget your troubles, at least for a little while!**

**Chapter 13. Daily life in the Lair.**

The next morning when I get up, the cave is light again and Loz is nowhere to be seen. I'm actually glad that he's got things to do and isn't hanging around me every second of each day, smothering me with his undying adoration. I love the guy but I'd find it quite disturbing if I woke up and he was there beside the bed staring at me with those intense cat-eyes of his, like some sort of obsessed person who doesn't want to let me out of his sight. I've always preferred to have my own freedom and even though this is his room and his lair, Loz certainly gives me that and I am thankful that he respects my personal space.

Pulling on a pair of baggy boy-style jeans which are beginning to get too tight around the middle, I inspect my belly, suspecting that I've actually grown bigger overnight.

"Good morning, kidlet," I murmur to my unborn child, softly stroking my protruding stomach and getting an answering kick in return that makes me smile. This baby is highly intelligent and knows what I'm saying. I bet it will learn to talk in only a couple of weeks. That thought is more than slightly scary.

I strap on a supportive bra and re-wear Loz's huge T-shirt, finding it much more comfortable and roomy than my own shirts. Opening the door, I hear voices and follow them down to the hall, sticking my head around the last entrance and finding him in the training room with his brothers. I don't even know if he came to bed last night when he got home from their job – if he did I must have been sleeping too deeply to notice. I was extremely tired then but I'm wide awake now, looking around in abject awe.

The massive cavern has a polished wooden floor bearing scratches and scuff marks from years of use. The large area is mainly open and clear, like an indoor basketball arena, but on one side there is a yoga mat and a few pieces of exercise equipment including a treadmill, a rowing machine and a giant, inflatable balance ball. A black punching bag hangs from the roof. Nearby there's a water dispenser and next to that, a weightlifting bench with various barbells and weights resting in racks beside it. At the end of the room is a pinned-up paper target, the human-shaped kind used in shooting ranges. I assume that's for Yazoo. A blue skipping rope is looped around a hook on the wall nearest the doorway, along with some dark grey towels on a silver rail. A low, long padded seat sits against that wall and the opposite side of the room is completely mirrored, so the guys can watch themselves working out, I presume.

All of them are dressed in gym gear - Kadaj in a pair of black karate pants and a fitted t-shirt, showing his upper body. He's got strips of material wrapped around his knuckles and his feet are bare. There's another strip of material tied around his forehead as a sweat band. I hate to admit it but he looks damn cute. Like a teenage ninja. Barefooted as well, Yazoo is in identical pants but instead of a t-shirt, he's got on a sleeveless racer-back running-top, revealing his strongly-muscled arms and corded shoulders. His long silver tresses are pulled into a tidy ponytail, showing model-like facial bones and delicately-formed ears, which I haven't glimpsed before since they've always been covered up with hair. He looks striking with it tied back and a lot more feminine, if that's even possible. I can see his neck tattoo.

Loz has forgone a shirt entirely and is unashamedly nude-chested, only wearing the black cotton pants that his brothers seem to favour, tailored at the waist and loose along the legs for ease of movement. His sharply defined hip-lines and packed stomach deserve my admiration for a few moments, likewise with his heavily-constructed biceps and solid chest. Noticing me in the doorway looking, he shows off and makes his pecs dance, tightening them one at a time while grinning at me in greeting. I grin back, letting him know that his shirtless display is definitely appreciated.

"You gonna watch us working out, girly?"

"If it's all right," I answer him hopefully.

"We might be a while," he warns me. "We usually train for a few hours."

"It's okay. I got nothing else to do." Edging closer to the padded seat, I enquire again, "You sure you don't mind if I sit here and watch?"

"Nah. We don't mind." Loz looks to his middle brother. "Do we, Yaz?"

Yazoo shakes his head and smiles. "It's fine."

"He won't even notice you're there. He gets into a 'zone'," Loz predicts drolly.

Wanting to make some effort and prove that I'm trying to get along with everyone in this male-dominated household, I ask tentatively, "Kadaj, is it okay if I watch you guys training?"

The younger sliverhead just answers with a muttered, "Whatever," sticks his earphones in, clips his digital music player to his waistband and starts punching the stuffed bag hung from the ceiling in one corner, probably imagining it's my face. He didn't say no so I lower myself onto the seating bench and lean against the wall behind me, observing their varying fitness routines with interest.

There's a stereo mounted on the cavern wall and it's playing music to help the time pass, some kind of slowly-beating electronic stuff that sounds like a cross between deep, relaxed dubstep and a temple full of chanting monks. It's actually pretty groovy.

Settling on the weightlifting bench, Loz picks up his barbells and gets right into the biceps-curls while Yazoo stretches to warm up before he does anything else. Taking a calming breath, the slender clone stands upright and bends at the waist to touch his toes. Except he doesn't just touch them, he reaches past them and puts his palms straight on the floor. It's like his whole body just folds in half, chest and stomach against his legs, arms wrapping around his calves. Then he straightens and sinks to the floor, sitting on the scuffed wooden boards. He parts his long legs, puts both hands on the floorboards between his thighs and leans forward a little, spreading his limbs wider and wider until he's in full splits, something that's not easy for a guy to do. Then when his legs are as far apart as he can get them, Yazoo pushes back and sits in that position, twisting his upper body to either side and pulling against the arch of his foot, first one side and then the other. He's doing it so casually and easily, as if he's got elastic joints, and I glance to Loz in amazement. The bigger male grins back at me.

"You ain't seen nothing yet, Cate."

Proving how supple he is, Yazoo gets into a standing position again, raises one leg in the air and keeps moving it higher and higher in a kind of graceful ballet-style pose, until it's way over his head. I stare with my jaw almost dropping. I've never seen a guy so bendy!

"Stop showing off," Loz drawls, rolling his eyes.

Pleased with his own feline flexibility Yazoo smiles, lowering his leg. "You're just jealous because you can't do it with those thick, tree-trunk thighs of yours."

"I don't need to do it. I can punch straight through a brick wall with my bare hand," Loz replies proudly, bunching his arm muscles so they bulge appealingly underneath the triple-pointed ninja-star inked in his flesh.

"Oh, Lozzie. You're such a big, manly brute," Yazoo fake-purrs with a flutter of his lashes, pretending to squeeze at a pair of boobs that he doesn't even have. "Mmm…you get me all wet…"

I blink at Yazoo in shocked amusement. With his restrained elegance I never thought he would be the sexually-teasing type, at least not with his older brother, but Loz seems used to it. Unimpressed, even.

"Bite me, bitch-face," he grunts rudely and keeps hefting his weights, concentrating on making his veins stick out like strips of liquorice. Smirking, Yazoo inserts mini-earphone plugs into each ear, his own digital music player strapped onto an arm. He steps onto a high-tech treadmill and presses some buttons, starting off in a light jog. Gradually, he increases the speed of the electronic exercise equipment, adjusting his pace to suit, his strides growing faster with each push of the button, elbows swinging by his ribs. It doesn't take long before Yazoo is running like a factory machine, smoothly, quickly and non-stop, the treadmill whirring mechanically. Like Loz predicted, he's in his zone. As he runs listening to his own music, the pretty middle sibling has got his eyes closed, like he's off in some other place, some fantasy land that's far away from this gym room. I don't know how the hell he can do it without losing his balance. I've never been able to run on a treadmill without clumsily falling off, let alone attempted to do it with shut eyes.

Also in his own zone, Kadaj is now whirling around that punching bag like a little tornado, attacking it so fast that my eyes are blurring trying to keep up with him. As it jerks on its chain, I notice stuffing starting to fall out of the seams of the bag.

Loz slots a few more circular metal weight-discs onto his barbells. He's now kneeling on the bench with one leg, extending his bulging arm backwards towards the floor and slowly pulling it up again, lifting far more than the average human body-builder could ever manage and not even sweating. In fact, none of them are. It's like they're not working out, just merely taking a stroll in a park.

"You guys really are freaks, you know that?" I mutter while laboriously getting up, the sheer effortlessness of their exercising making me feel fat and grossly unfit. They're so concentrated on what they're doing, I don't think they even heard me.

I rebel against their excessive training by going to the kitchen and frying up a large breakfast of scrambled eggs with cheese and spinach, eating it at the table by myself. Glancing at that sparkling clean gas stove, I bet it's the first time it has ever been cooked on. Well, now that I've moved in it certainly won't be the last. Gotta make sure I keep my protein intake up. I want a strong, healthy baby, not a sickly one, although judging by the vigorous way he/she kicks me in the ribs when it's hungry, I don't think that will be an issue.

After gulping down a chocolate-flavoured milk in a tall glass and washing all my dishes, I head back to the bedroom and continue unpacking the rest of my things, making space in Loz's closets and on his shelves. His room is plenty big enough to fit a child's cot in there, even though I don't actually have one yet. I need to sort that out soon. I'll also need a change table and a comfy nursing chair. The idea of breastfeeding and getting sore, chapped, leaky nipples doesn't thrill me but it's one of those motherly duties I know I'll have to do, along with changing stinky diapers and wiping up curdled milk-vomit.

Motherhood sounds so gloriously glamorous, doesn't it?

With my stuff put away, I return to see if the guys have finished working out yet. They haven't. It sounds like a death-rock concert in there, Loz's preferred music blaring from the speakers of the stereo, all thrashing guitars and hoarsely screaming vocals. The volume has been turned way up. It doesn't seem to bother the other two that Loz has taken control over the sound system as they have their earphones in, listening to their own music - Kadaj's probably angsty, rebellious teen punk or something while Yazoo is most likely playing classical. Either that or black metal. You wouldn't know for sure with him, being the complex individual that he is. Yazoo is off the treadmill and is using the skipping rope now, staring fixatedly at himself in the wall-mirror (or looking right through it in concentration). His fringe flops across his eyes. That'd annoy the shit out of me but he doesn't appear to notice. Flicking his wrists in repetitive motions, he jumps with both feet for a minute and then with alternating steps, one foot then the other, as if he's jogging on the spot but really fast. He's skipping so rapidly I can't even see the rope; it's a blue blur, his arms tensed and wired like a bunch of electrical cables.

They've finally begun to sweat. Loz is glistening all over with it, drops falling from his chin and the tip of his nose, rivulets running down the centre of his chest and wide back, rolling down his spine and disappearing into the soaked waistband of his pants. I admire his large, muscled frame for a few moments. He looks damn hot, in both senses of the word.

Kadaj's t-shirt is drenched through as is his head-band, his saturated hair hanging like strings around his face as he viciously punches and kicks the poor battered bag in front of him. Meanwhile, Yazoo just looks kind of dewy, the silver-grey bangs across his forehead delicately damp; the only moist patch showing through his tank-top is on his upper back, underneath his still-neat ponytail. How he manages to look elegant even when he's skipping and perspiring I'll never know.

They all have different work-out routines but one thing that the three brothers have in common are their wonderful bodies, although they are not completely identical. Loz is big and bulky, Yazoo is tall and slender while Kadaj is somewhere in between, strong but not too masculine, slim yet not too girlish, the eighteen year-old leader's body lean, firm and perfectly in proportion to his slightly shorter height. I don't like the little fucker at all but I can't help being secretly impressed by his athletic figure. Not that I'd ever tell him that.

Sensing that I'm watching him, Kadaj stops, pulls out one of his earphone plugs and gives me a flat look. "Can I help you?"

He sounds like a bored shop assistant.

"No. I'm just surprised you're still going," I remark.

"Well, it takes a lot of work to look this good," he declares drawlingly, grabbing the front of his t-shirt and lifting it up to show off his fit tattooed belly. A little thrill zings through me at the sight. His ab-muscles are small but hard and clearly delineated, showing beneath his skin which is wet and gleaming with salty moisture. The three-pronged ink design he got in conjunction with his brothers sits well below his navel, obscenely close to his groin and drawing the attention downwards, like it's supposed to. I can see the beginnings of dampened silver pubic curls edging over the top of the pants that are slung low on his trim hips. He slides his hand slowly down that lightly-rippled stomach and trails his fingertips suggestively over the permanent black pigment embedded in his sweaty skin, as if he's thinking about touching lower. There's an interesting bulge down there and I briefly wonder how many inches it measures. I can actually smell the scent of Kadaj's masculinity from here, that alluring scent of sin that always seems to hover around him. And it's mouth-wateringly sexy. Just like he is.

Wait – what the fuck am I thinking?

I jerk my gaze back up to his face, horrified that I've been openly checking him out. He smiles at my expression and I flush in embarrassment, hastily looking away from all that bare white flesh.

"Loz, Kadaj is exposing himself to Cate," Yazoo mentions without breaking his focused stare or missing a step.

Previously too engrossed in lifting heavy weights to notice, Loz's head whips around and he scowls darkly when he sees what his wicked little brother is up to. "Kadaj! Stop that shit."

"What?" Kadaj answers naively, tugging his shirt back down with widely innocent eyes. "She wanted to see my tattoo."

"I did not!" I exclaim in outrage, pointing accusingly at the trouble-causing karate-kid. "He just flashed me for no reason."

"Like you weren't looking," Kadaj replies, smirking evilly, knowing precisely that I did.

"I was NOT looking," I flatly lie, turning away like I'm offended by Kadaj lifting his shirt even though part of me is still salivating over what was underneath it.

"Aw, come back, Princess," the taunting triplet cajoles sweetly and mockingly as I walk towards the door. "I'll miss you too much if you leave! My whole world revolves around you, Cate, don't you know that?"

"Go screw yourself," I fling back over my shoulder. "Dick."

"Slut."

Just then Loz growls and there's an almighty crashing thump, like he threw his dumbbell at Kadaj and missed. I flinch but keep walking, refusing to look back.

"You say that to my girlfriend again," Loz threatens Kadaj heatedly from behind me, "and I'm gonna bash your fucking skull in!"

The sound of Kadaj's merry laughter follows me down the hall. He's in a much better mood than before, when he started to train. Must be the endorphins kicking in at last. Well, I don't care what he says or what he calls me. He's just doing it to be an ass. Thanks to my experience with teenage foster-brothers, I have thick skin and can withstand his jeers and insults. Although, it's lovely of Loz to stick up for me. He really is a sweetie-pie. In a tough, aggro kind of way.

I'm on his bed reading a fantasy novel about elves and centaurs when he finally finishes training and comes to take a shower, bringing the smell of pure, hardworking man with him. His bare torso is still glimmering with sweat, every muscle rock hard and every vein pumped up to the max. I peek at him over the top edge of my book, hoping he'll undress in front of me. He just stretches and goes into the bathroom, still wearing his karate pants. In those, and with that hair, he looks like some kind of street-fighting video game character. He stops in his tracks when he notices all the girly products I've put on the vanity top, frowning in particular at the perfume bottles.

"Uh, Cate? Are you gonna use that stuff?"

I put the novel down. "Of course, why?"

Uncomfortably, he suggests, "Well…I don't think you need it. You smell great just as you are."

"Oh shit, your flower phobia!" I exclaim, having forgotten about that little quirk of his. "That's why you don't like perfume, right?"

He winces. "Not really. The smell makes me queasy."

Deciding that I want Loz to kiss me and not vomit on me, I get up, enter the bathroom and start throwing the offending perfume bottles in the bin. They're only cheap imitations of the real brands anyway.

In alarm he blurts, "Hey, you don't have to toss it all out!"

"But I want to." I gesture towards him with a glass vial in the shape of a rose. "Look, I don't wanna put something on my skin if it makes you feel sick. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I did that?"

"They don't ALL make me feel sick," he amends. "Only the flowery ones. Whichever one you were wearing that night at the club, keep that."

"This one?" I find the heart-shaped bottle and open the cap so he can sniff it. "You like this?"

"Yeah." He nods. " I like that one. It smells like strawberries."

Together, we go through all my perfumes, lotions and shower gels, Loz sniffing them and giving me his approval or not, allowing him to choose which to keep and which to toss. Anything smelling of roses, violets or lilies has to go, especially lilies, Loz visibly recoiling at the sweet scent like a vampire at garlic. Anything that smells like food or fruit, such as coconut, raspberry or vanilla, can stay. He especially likes my cocoa butter body moisturiser which has a smooth golden texture and warm chocolate aroma. I use it on my belly and breasts because it supposedly helps to prevent stretch marks. I don't know if it really works or is just a clever marketing scam but it's worth a try.

After we sort all that out, Loz stands there awkwardly, waiting for me to leave so he can take a shower. Even though he's got no problems displaying his manly chest, I guess he's still too shy to undress completely in front of me so I smile understandingly and shut the door behind me, giving him his privacy.

I try to read more of the book I started earlier but my mind keeps wandering off into deliciously naughty Loz-under-the-shower fantasies, imagining water pouring over all him and running into every well-cut line of his marble-like body.

After he's clean and dressed again, Loz asks if I want to go for a ride through the forest on his bike. He vows that he'll be careful. Since I'm a daring kind of girl (and have been on motorcycles before), I agree and we head up to the garage, Loz telling me to sit in front of him for safety's sake. It's exhilarating straddling one of those metal battle-beasts, feeling it rumble and roar beneath me like a mechanical monster. My foster brother Jaren had a bike too and he even let me have a go at riding it around the back yard but it was nowhere near as massive or imposing as this rusty-green, tank-like vehicle with its front-loaded weaponry, triple intake-valves and enormous exhaust pipes. Loz guides my hands onto the steering column, down a bit from his, so I have something to hold onto. When he changes into first gear and takes off with spinning tyres and a sudden surge of power, I jerk backwards against Loz's solid chest, glad I'm not on the rear of the bike or I'd have fallen straight off. He exits the garage though the sliding boulder-doors and soars into the woods with me.

If I had long hair, it'd be streaming out behind me as we fly through the parade of crystal trees in the pale bluish light of the afternoon sun, Loz gunning his mammoth motorcycle and taking corners with controlled speed and accuracy. He might not be the best at controlling his emotions but he really owns this thing and knows exactly how to handle it. Sitting on the front of the bike and experiencing the sheer force of the gear-grinding motor under me is scary-fun but that's the best type of fun, in my opinion. I'm not truly afraid though, because Loz is right there at my back protecting me and I know he won't let me fall, even though the wind resistance pushes at me like a hurricane and nearly dries my eyes out. My face is flushed with exhilarated adrenaline by the time he parks near what is either a large pond or a small lake, cutting the engine. The resulting silence makes me realise just how loud that engine had actually been, my ears ringing from the noise.

"Dude. That was awesome!" I enthuse, my heart still racing with the rush. "Even though a bug nearly hit me in the fucking eye."

I rub at the spot where the hard-shelled insect bounced off my cheekbone.

"Yeah. That happens," Loz comments as he puts the kick-stand down with his boot. "Should probably get you a pair of goggles."

"Definitely, because we totally have to do this again." Patting the fuel tank, I announce, "This the most powerful thing I've had between my thighs since that night in the club."

Grinning at my complimentary innuendo, Loz helps me off the bike, making sure I don't get burnt on the hot exhaust pipes. My legs are shaky from the ride, as if getting off a rollercoaster. He takes my hand and walks me over to the calmly rippling pool nearby. That giant sea shell monument-thing sits on the other side of it, radiant white tree-branches reflected in the wide expanse of water. We perch on a large fallen log, Loz sitting behind me and slipping his arms around my swelling middle, both of us looking out over the lake. Small globes of white light float through the air like living things, periodically fading away and reappearing. I've seen these before. Some people say they are natural pockets of gas that catch alight and burn themselves out. Others say they are balls of energy escaping from the planet's core. Some people even believe they are souls that haven't yet passed into the Life Stream. Children call them fairies. I don't know what they are but they're pretty to watch. Sighing deeply, I lean back against Loz's broad torso and just admire the trancelike view of the floating lights, glowing trees and undulating lake, watching the sun going down and the sky turning darker. It's so peaceful. Even the baby is quiet and still inside me. I can see why it's called The Sleeping Forest.

"Sometimes, when I'm sad or angry, I come here to swim," Loz mentions a little while later in a soft tone. "As soon as I get in the water it makes me feel better. It's always warm and comforting. This is gonna sound stupid but it's like getting hugged, y'know?"

He rests his chin on top of my head. "Even just looking at it calms me down. Yaz and Kadaj come here too. It's kind of our lake. It's yours now too, little girl, and you can swim in it or visit whenever you want."

Nodding, I gratefully acknowledge his permission. I can tell it's a very special place to him. It seems filled with mystery and magic, not seeming quite real, almost like a dream-scene. There are places on the planet that are closer to the Life Stream than others, places where you can sense Gaia's healing spirit more strongly, and this is clearly one of them.

"The first time I was here looking for your house it was scary as hell," I confess to Loz, "but now that I'm with you…this forest is really beautiful."

"No, you know what's really beautiful?" Loz answers, murmuring lowly in my ear and giving me tiny spine-shivers. "You, Cate."

He hugs me close, pulling me into the front of his body. Within moments, I can detect his hardness growing against my back. Realising that I can feel it, he shifts and buries his face bashfully in my neck.

"Sorry. I can't help that." He sounds guilty. "Is it wrong to want you, even though you're carrying a baby?"

"It's not just a baby. It's YOUR baby, Loz," I remind him, turning to meet his troubled gaze. "And it's okay - I want you too. Hell, I wanted you from the moment I first looked into your gorgeous green eyes."

"I wanted you even before that," he reveals. "I saw you in the club, sitting on that bar stool in your short skirt and those knee-high boots… and damn. That was it for me."

"Ah, so it WAS the boots." I grin teasingly. "I knew it."

An interested gleam shines in his eyes. "You still got them?"

"I do. Shandi gave them to me. She didn't want them back knowing I'd gotten pregnant in them." I give a wry, slightly sad smile, wishing we could still be friends. "They used to be her lucky boots. Seems like they're mine now."

Reaching up, I touch Loz's handsomely whiskered face, knowing that the loss of Shandi's friendship was worth it, if it means having this big-hearted man in my life. Friends come and go and you can't always count on them but I don't think Loz will abandon me so easily. He promised to be there for me no matter what and I believe him.

I lift my chin up, inviting him closer, and he lowers his head so our lips connect. Returning his gentle kiss I turn around further, slinging my arm around his neck. He gathers me into his lap, both of us closing our eyes. Losing track of time, we make out on the fallen log for a while, giving each other slow, sweet kisses that make my skin tingle pleasantly. He rubs over my belly, feeling its rounded tightness and the baby's little movements beneath. When his hand moves upwards and begins to fondle my similarly-swollen breasts through the clothes I'm wearing, I don't stop him; I just slide mine up his shirt so I can feel his smoothly muscled chest, his heart thudding robustly under my palm. I've never felt a heartbeat as strong and sturdy as his. I brush my thumb over his flat male nipple, delighting when it gets hard. Mine have hardened too, not that he can tell with the padded maternity bra I've got on. He doesn't seem to mind about the layers of material separating us, appearing happy just to be close to me.

"Here," I breathe, taking his wrist and guiding his fingers underneath the shirt I'm wearing and into the cup of my bra, moving it aside. "Touch me properly."

A low groan echoes at the back of his throat when he feels my naked flesh, his large hand completely cupping the warm weight of my left breast. "So soft, little girl…"

I love how he calls me that, even though I'm not so little anymore, not with the major expansion of my stomach and all the other female curves on my body.

"Mmm, that's nice," I murmur in bliss as his fingertips roll over my erect nipple, our mouths and tongues connecting again. While we're kissing, I knead his firm pecs and trace around his amazingly chiselled abs, every now and again brushing over the bulge of his groin. I'm aware that we're probably desecrating the peace and sacredness of the forest by doing this, making out like a couple of randy high-school kids, but I don't care. Touching Loz, and having him touch me, feels too good and we don't wanna stop. We probably won't have sex here but I might allow his caressing fingers into my jeans and I could take out that impressive male weapon of his and stroke it, giving us the pleasure we both desire without rushing things too quickly.

Sometime later, he draws away, though with great reluctance. "We should head back home," he sighs disappointedly, removing his hand from under my shirt.

"Aw, do we have to?" I complain, feeling a throbbing between my legs that hasn't been soothed yet.

"Afraid so. My brothers want dinner. They're hungry."

"You can tell that all the way from here?"

He hasn't gotten any text messages on his phone so he could only know this via their alien telepathic connection. Shaking my head in disbelief, I rearrange my bra and comment, "It's incredible how you can read each other's minds and know what you're all thinking."

"I guess." He shrugs, used to it. "But sometimes it's annoying. Like, I can always tell when Yaz and Daj are horny and I don't really wanna know because..." He swiftly stops, looking uncomfortable.

"Uh…forget I said that."

"Gladly," I declare, not wanting to know about his brothers' sex lives either. Who they sleep with is their own business and I do not require such private information. It's awkward enough hearing Kadaj moaning in the middle of the night when his whore comes over; I don't actually need to know who she (or he) is or what they do together.

It's been great out here alone in the woods without having the mean-tempered youngest clone around, not seeing him smirk at me, or hearing his scathing remarks and copping his hateful glares. This forest is the only place I'm completely free of him. Mildly dejected that I have to go back and face my teenage tormenter, Loz and I get back onto the bike and return to the lair. Yazoo and Kadaj are already waiting in the garage for us, sitting on their motorcycles. Yazoo seems eternally patient, as always, but Kadaj rewards me with another fiery scowl for making them wait so long. Ignoring him (which is getting easier with practice) I climb off the bike, kissing Loz on the cheek and thanking him for the ride before walking off down the corridor. Unfortunately, the sound of their voices follows me.

"You look a little red in the face, Loz." I hear Kadaj jeering lewdly as they rev their engines. "Did you give her a ride, brother, or did you give her a RIDE?"

Loz's response is instant and irritated. "Go choke on a cock, Daj."

Yazoo chuckles.

"You choke on one too, Yazoo!"

That just makes the middle Remnant laugh harder, probably because he never chokes on them. I bet he's too skilled for that. Kadaj joins in the laughter, asking whether I spit or swallow.

"Fuck you guys. You can swallow my dust, bitches!"

With a competitive Loz in the lead, the boys all roar off into town to get fast food while I shake my head exasperatedly and make my way down the underground passage to the main part of the lair. As strange as it seems, I kind of like hearing them bicker like that. It reminds me of my last foster home and the rambunctious lot of boys I used to live with, including Jaren. They'd carry on like that too, making sex jokes and picking on each other, but I knew all the jesting was done in mutual fondness. Just like these brothers. It's comforting and makes me feel as though I'm part of a real family.

I cook a nourishing dinner for myself in the kitchen – steamed rice, tofu and vegetables. Freddie materialises on the floor beside my feet, the huge grey reptile scaring the crap out of me with his sudden appearance. He must have learned that trick from Yazoo. He gazes up at me with those creamy-orange eyes like a scaly puppy dog, evidently used to being fed scraps at dinner time. I tentatively toss him a small cube of tofu and surprisingly, he eats it, probably mistaking it for chocobo meat or something. He licks his lizard-lips expectantly and I smile, tossing him another cube of bean-curd which he catches in mid-air with tiny teeth. Besides being tame, he's actually very cute. After he's had enough, Freddie slowly wanders off, dragging his long tail behind him.

When Loz and his brothers return they are loaded up with containers of what mostly appears to be fried meat with BBQ sauce on it. Being a vegetarian I am disgusted in myself to realise that all that cooked dead-animal flesh actually smells pretty good. Eating with their hands instead of cutlery, the guys devour their dinner like lions at a carcase, tearing off bites of flesh with their teeth, leaving nothing behind but platefuls of bones. They may only eat once a day but they damn well make it count, eating enough for six people. I try to ignore the tempting meaty aromas drifting across the kitchen table and eat my healthy meal, wondering why tofu - which I normally love - suddenly tastes so bland and flavourless.

The dinner conversation mainly consists of Kadaj's cryptic messages from their mother and possible locations where she could be concealed, Kadaj debating them with Yazoo and Loz, the three of them planning to check out all the different regions surrounding Midgar over the next few weeks. Some of their conversation is silent - the parts that Kadaj deems unsuitable for me to know, not that I'd blab to anybody anyway.

If Jenova can talk, I wonder to myself why she doesn't just TELL Kadaj exactly where she is, saving them all this speculation and searching. The again, maybe she just doesn't know where she's being kept. It seems likely that it's underground somewhere, judging by what Kadaj says and how dark it is where their mother's body is being stored. I eat my tofu and stay out of the discussion, since I have absolutely nothing to contribute, although I secretly find it kind of creepily fascinating that they're looking for a dead alien. That seems to be their main driving force. Finding her. I can tell that the brothers miss Jenova, even though they've never known her in person. Loz told me that they go around questioning people, trying to find out where she is. And by 'questioning', I assume that means 'torture for information'. I guess whoever is hiding the ancient alien remains wants them to stay hidden but Kadaj seems hell-bent on finding them. It's obsessive. I can't help wondering what will happen when he succeeds.

I hope he doesn't bring some dried-up old corpse back here to stink the place out but from the way the boys speak about their mother, it's as though she's not dead, just merely in some type of suspended animation. Kadaj insists that she speaks to him, that she gives him instructions and wants him to find her. If Jenova's mind is awake and communicating then maybe she's not rotten or mummified. Maybe her body is still whole and perfect and just looks like she's at rest. Like a sleeping beauty from fairy tales. All the science-fiction films I've ever seen run wildly through my head and I envision an ethereally-perfect pale-skinned woman lying on a slab, her slender figure covered with a white sheet, hooked up to tubes and monitoring machines. Perhaps she's just lying there somewhere deep beneath the ground with her eyes closed, waiting to be found and freed from the evil scientists holding her captive and experimenting with her cells. Maybe when she's rescued Kadaj can somehow heal her injuries with his magic, somehow bring her back to life, and then the boys can be a family again. That's what I'm guessing. That's why they want to find her so badly.

I wonder what she's like. Jenova must be beautiful, if her sons are any indication. She must have the same silver hair and green eyes. If she's an ancient being, then she must possess wisdom and great knowledge. If she wants Kadaj to find her then she must be missing him too, and all of her children, even though they were made while she was asleep. She must be loving and kind, to care about sons she's never met. Perhaps she would even treat me like a daughter, since I'm carrying part of her in my womb. She would be my child's grandmother. Even if she's not from this world, I still want my child to have a grandparent, since both of my own parents are gone and I have no other living relatives. It would also be nice to have another female in the lair, someone who can help me with the baby and be the guiding, motherly presence that I have missed out on all these years. For all these reasons, I actually hope Kadaj does find Jenova.

We all need a mother.

…..


	14. Makin' Babies

**A/N: **Thanks to Natzilla, BMIK, CayChaotic, IA1979 and demetrifever123 for all the awesome reviews and support!

**Warning:** Contains pregnancy lovemaking so if squeamish about such things you may want to avoid the first half of this chapter. Otherwise, please enjoy!

**Chapter 14. Makin' Babies**

Later that evening, Loz and his brothers go out again. I don't know if it's for a job or something personal, such as looking for their kidnapped alien mother. Like a good girlfriend, I don't ask. Kadaj's warning to mind my own business keeps ringing in my mind so I keep my mouth shut, smile sweetly and kiss my boyfriend goodbye. When he's gone I gaze up at the glow worms on the ceiling of Loz's room – OUR room now, I have to keep reminding myself – and just lie there trying not to worry too much about him or how dangerous his line of employment is. With both hands on my ever-expanding belly, I can't help but wonder what would become of me and my child if anything happened to Loz. Who would take care of us then?

As if to reassure me, my psychically-gifted baby gives me a calming vision of Loz cruising along the empty city streets on his beloved bike, excited to be out on a mission with Kadaj and Yazoo by his sides. No matter what they're up to, I can tell that Loz is happy to be with his brothers and he knows they have his back, just as he has theirs. They will protect and guard each other. He feels completely safe so that makes me feel safe too and thanks to my baby's soothing mental images, I am finally able to fall asleep.

Sometime later during the night they all come back. Waking up, I hear the three bikes returning with echoing engine rumbles, then Loz enters the darkened bedroom shortly afterwards, trying to be quiet. I can smell motorcycle exhaust smoke on him. He moves to the side of the bed and then goes to shower. As he's in there, I turn the lamp on and discover a box of cherry-cream filled chocolates sitting on the small table beside me. My eyes brighten in delight. I can't resist opening it and sneaking a couple into my mouth. They're delicious.

"Hey, girly," he affectionately greets me as he comes out of the bathroom shirtless and with damp, slicked-back hair. "Did I wake you?"

Leaning on my side, I shake my head slightly and smile. "It's okay. I don't mind being woken with chocolates. Well, I HOPE they were for me because I've had three already."

"Of course they're for you. Freddie don't eat chocolates." Smiling, Loz climbs into bed and lays beside me under the sheets, drawing me into his arms. He smells clean and inviting. His skin has been warmed from the shower water.

"I'm glad you're back," I sigh, snuggling into his protective embrace. "I missed you."

"Me too. Sorry I'm so late," he apologises as he strokes my hair. "Yazoo met some dude at a bar and had to seduce him before we could come home. Kadaj also laid two of the waitresses." He shakes his head exasperatedly. "They're a pair of sluts, those guys. Seriously."

"You didn't get laid?"

I'm only joking but he gazes soberly into my eyes. "I wasn't even looking, Cate."

Teasingly, I suggest, "You wanna?"

Not quite understanding me, Loz frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, this." Here I lean in and kiss him on the mouth, not in the mood for sleeping any longer. The chocolates have given me a sugar-rush so I'm very much awake now. I slip my hand around the back of his neck and pull him closer, searching out the tip of his tongue with mine. He groans softly.

"You taste like cherries," he mumbles around my kisses. "I like cherries."

"I like YOU, big guy," I breathe against his lips, laying my hand on his nude chest and caressing smooth marble-white muscles. "Loz, you know what we started earlier by the lake? Can we finish it now?"

His angular eyebrows rise with comprehension and he pulls back to look at me. "Really? You want to?"

"Hell yes." Excited to be near him, I slide my bare leg up along his, just to feel his skin on mine. "I dunno if it's the pregnancy hormones or what but I can't wait any more."

"Me either." Embarrassedly, he confesses, "I'm getting tired of jacking off in the shower."

My mouth turns up in a naughty smirk as I realise what he's been up to in the privacy of his bathroom. "You bad boy," I tease, pushing him onto his back and pulling the sheet down so I can look at him. He's not wearing pyjama pants tonight, only a short pair of black trunks that show off his strong legs and thighs wonderfully. Whether he's working out in the gym room or simply lying there in bed, his abs still remain harder than rocks.

"Gods, you're a beautiful man," I murmur in awe.

He makes a dismissive face. "My brothers are beautiful. I'm not."

Putting a finger against his sensually-formed lips, I scold, "Shut up. You're the hottest guy on the planet to me. And I'm gonna prove it."

I climb on top of Loz's muscled body and lean forward to kiss him again, more insistently this time, pushing my tongue in deeper. He moans in my mouth, slowly grinding up against me, his hands on my hips. I can feel his ample erection as I'm sitting right on top of it. I straighten back up and look down at him below me, pleased to see his green eyes glowing like radioactive material, his pupils thinned and slitted with desire. I'm wearing one of his T-shirts and just before I pull it off, I hesitate.

"You're not gonna lose your hard-on if you see my bump, are you? Some guys don't think pregnant women are sexually attractive anymore."

"I ain't one of those guys," Loz immediately objects. "I think you're sexy as hell and I wanna see it."

"Well, here you go." I lift the shirt up over my head and strip it off, leaving me in just a pair of panties, my heavier breasts and rounded stomach fully on display. I still have my star-jewel navel piercing in. Next to my nose ring, it's my favourite piece of jewellery and I'm going to keep wearing it until my bellybutton pops out. Which will probably happen any day now judging by how rapidly I'm expanding.

"This is what you did to me, Loz."

Staring at my naked, bulging stomach for the first time, he lifts his eyebrows and says in surprise, "Shit. You're bigger than I thought."

Smirking, I reply, "Isn't that what I said about you once?"

He grins, remembering our drunken bout of bathroom sex. Bit difficult for him to forget that now, not with the five month reminder making my tummy swell up like a melon. I take his hand and put it on my baby bump, letting him know it's okay to touch me. Our child doesn't stir – they must be asleep, which is a good thing because Loz and I are going to have sex and it'd be weird feeling like we have an alert underage audience. There's a thin brown stripe on the skin of my motionless abdomen, curving from my bellybutton to my pubic bone. Loz studies it, lightly running his fingertip down the mark.

"What's that?"

"That is a line of pigment called 'linea nigra'. It's caused by hormones and will fade after the birth. It forms right over the area where the stomach muscles separate." Recalling the fancy medical term from my guidebooks, I explain, "That's a condition called 'diastasis recti'."

He appears startled. "Wait – your abs are _separating_? Like, splitting apart?"

"Yeah, just the top layers, to allow room for the baby to grow. It doesn't happen to every pregnant woman, but it is to me." Simplifying it for Loz, I inform him, "Basically, it's happening because the baby is growing so fast."

I take his finger and push it deeper down the line, so he can feel the groove between the left and right halves of my abdominal muscles.

"Doesn't that hurt?"

I shrug. "Not at all. It gets a bit itchy on the outside but that's all. The muscles should close back by themselves after the baby is born. A woman's body is designed to change quite a lot during pregnancy. All our ligaments go looser and more flexible, our internal organs shift position and our whole skeletal system alters just so we can carry and deliver the child. It's pretty cool when you think about it."

"Neat," Loz agrees interestedly. "These have changed too."

He cups one of my breasts in his hand. They're much fuller than they used to be and my nipples have swelled and turned darker. Normally they're a light latte colour but now they're like dark coffee. They're a lot more responsive as well, Loz's slightest touch making them tighten and tingle. Moaning softly, I push into his hand, encouraging him to play with my nipple. He rolls his thumb over it and then sits up to take it into his mouth. With his palms spread across the base of my spine to steady me, he closes his eyes and sweeps his tongue around my areola. I suck in a fast lungful of air and then release it shakily, my fingers digging into his tattooed upper arm.

I hear a muffled, "Hey," of surprise and then he pulls back. I look down to see a dribble of whitish-tinged liquid seeping from my nipple and running down the underneath of my breast. There's some of it on Loz's chin.

"Aw, shit." I wipe it off his face with the heel of my hand, feeling slightly mortified by my body's automatic response. "Sorry about that."

Licking his lip, Loz queries, "Is that supposed to happen?"

"Yeah, it's normal. My stupid boob thinks a baby latched onto it to feed." I sigh. "You got a tissue or something?"

"It's okay," he offers understandingly. "Tastes kinda nice." Angling his neck, he licks the rest of it off and then continues to tease my nipple with his mouth.

"Oh, Gods," I whimper, clutching his silver head closer to my chest. I'm so sensitive and it's been so long since I've been touched in this way that soon I'm aroused beyond thought, my panties soaked through already. Excitedly, I straddle his leg, lowering myself down against the solid muscle there. The only thing between his skin and my mound is the thin layer of my cotton underwear so he would definitely be able to feel how wet I am but I'm too turned-on to be embarrassed about it. While his tongue swirls hotly around my hardened nipple, I rub my aching wetness wantonly into his thick thigh and it only takes a few rocks of my hips before I'm gasping and quaking against him, my fingers clenching in his pixie-like hair.

He stops, glancing up with an amazed expression. "Did you just…?"

"Mmm, yeah," I confirm, giving another shudder. "Damn, I really needed that."

He starts to look disappointed.

"Oh, I'm not done yet." Lifting my lashes, I give him a heated stare. "I want more."

"More?"

"Yes. I want you. I want this…" Shamelessly, I slide my hand under his waist band to cup his hardened length. "Want to feel you in me again."

Tensing with anticipation, he hisses as I squeeze his large shaft. "Doing that…I won't hurt the baby, will I?"

"You're big but you're not THAT big," I drawl. "The baby is safely sealed up in his own cocoon and not even you can get to him. So, don't worry. You can't poke him in the eye or anything."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

Climbing off him, I tug at his shorts and he peels them down for me, removing the article of underwear and dropping it over the side of the bed. Admiring the silvery sheen of his pubic thatch, I feast my eyes on his stiffly jutting manhood, which is every bit as magnificent as I remember, long and wide, veined on the underside and glossily purpled at the tip. Regardless of whether he just jerked off in the shower or not, every inch of it is hard and pulsing. Wrapping my fingers around it, I give the male flesh a few slow tugs. Under the velvety outer skin it feels unbreakable, just like another genetically-enhanced muscle. His lightly-furred balls are a much softer contrast, hanging underneath like a pair of ripe peaches. As I stroke him, he lets out a low, throaty rumble, slanted brows drawing together in an expression of concentrated sexual arousal, watching what I'm doing to him. I love that face on Loz. I saw it the first time we were together, fucking up against the wall. That is a sexy, sexy face. And he is a sexy, sexy beast.

I contemplate trying to suck him but I know I won't be able to fit all that man-meat in my mouth. But I know where it WILL fit. Lying on my back, I slip my panties off and part my legs.

"Warm me up, biker boy," I whisper urgently.

Knowing what I want, he flips over and lies stomach-first on the bed, head between my thighs. From here, I get a really nice view of his rippling back and taut ass, which is just as firm and muscular as the rest of his body. He kisses my belly and then goes down on me, using his mouth and tongue to prepare me like he did in that club bathroom. Only now we're completely sober and don't have to worry about anyone banging on the door, telling us to get out of there. We can take as much time as we want.

"Loz," I gasp as he circles hotly around my entrance and then delves deep inside to taste me. "Fuck, your tongue feels incredible…"

I push up against his face. Like the last time he licked my pussy, he's moaning in his throat, getting every bit as turned-on by the act as I am. Remembering how much trouble I had accepting his larger sized member, he gently uses his fingers on me, sliding two of them in and out, helping me stretch and open up for him. As he does this he's tonguing my clit, occasionally sucking on the erect little bud of my femaleness to help it emerge from its hooded cover. I don't think I can get any wetter or more ready than this.

When I can't take the oral foreplay anymore, I nudge his head aside and stuff a pillow under my butt, lifting my hips up.

"You'll have to do me while you're kneeling," I tell him. "You can't lie on top of my belly because you're too heavy and you could crush the baby."

He nods, willing to do whatever is safest for our child and for me. He gets to his knees and positions himself between my thighs, holding my hips in his hands. He guides his tip down my slit, seeking entry into my moist heat. Loz doesn't shove in this time, not wanting to cause any pain, no matter how fleeting, but enters me as cautiously and carefully as he can. It's still a very tight fit.

Like back in the club bathroom, it almost feels as though my virginity is being taken all over again, as if my hymen has regrown and Loz has got to break through it once more. I haven't been a virgin since I was fifteen but being with Loz kind of makes me feel like one again and you know, it's not all bad. Along with the temporary discomfort, there's also nervous excitement, the sense of newness and discovery, the heart-pounding thrill of giving yourself to another person and putting your safety in their hands, of trusting them completely. Letting someone into your body when you've never done it before is both scary and thrilling and though I was only with Loz a few months ago, that's exactly what it feels like for me now.

Like it's our very first time.

"Cate," he says, moaning gruffly as the last two inches slip in. "Ah…my beautiful girl. My beautiful little Catey."

I make a whimpering noise, overwhelmed at being filled by his enormousness again. It's every bit as daunting and satisfying as I recall.

He begins to move, slowly withdrawing and then pushing his hips forward again. After a while, the tightness fades and my body accepts his thickness easily.

"Oh yeah…" I moan. "Oh Gods, yeah…"

Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I can't enjoy this or get off on it, like I would any other time I'm on the end of such an impressive male tool. It feels so good, I almost forget that there's a baby in my stomach. All I can feel is Loz's thick cock pushing in and gliding back out again. There are no flowers or hearts or teddy bears wafting around us, just the musky scent of shared sexual passion. The chemistry between us is electrically charged and smoking hot – that hasn't changed at all. Together, we let the electricity course through our bodies and super-charge us to the point of explosion.

Soon, Loz curses tightly through gritted teeth. Still on his knees, he starts to pull away from me but I wrap my legs around his waist and stop him.

"No. Not yet."

"You're gonna have to let me stop, Cate. I don't wanna do it in you," he protests, talking about his toxic sperm. "Don't want you to get sick from me."

"I won't. Yazoo said my body's used to mako now. I don't think a little bit more will make any difference. Don't stop, honey," I coerce him pleadingly. "I'm so close. I want to come with you inside me."

I guide his hand down, putting his thumb on my clit, wordlessly asking him to help me get there. He remembers exactly how I like to be touched, rubbing the slippery nub in small circles as he continues to screw me.

The closer I get to orgasm, the louder and more demanding I become.

"Yeah, rub that thing for me, Loz," I order heatedly, gripping his strong forearms. "Rub it while you're banging me with that huge cock of yours."

His movements speed up and he starts to pant, my clit throbbing under his madly circling thumb-pad.

"That's it, you big horny bastard…" I tighten my thighs around him as I start to come. "Harder, harder, harder!"

He obeys, his bulky body slapping into mine, making my breasts and belly jiggle.

I throw my head back onto the pillow and scrunch my eyes shut, repeatedly calling out Loz's name as I climax convulsively, my torso twisting and inner walls clenching around his plunging prick.

"Oh, Mother," Loz cries, groaning loudly as he rams deep and spurts his love-juice inside me. "Sweet, sweet Mother…"

I guess it could be considered weird that he mentions his mom when he comes, but I suppose it's no weirder than people crying out to the Gods, or to the planet. Anyway, I'm having far too good of a time to care about that. I'm just glad we're both giving pleasure to each other.

When it's all over and we've stopped shuddering and moaning, he carefully pulls out, a gush of fluid following. He really carries a massive load in those man-sacks of his. But I don't mind lying in a wet patch. I'm too delightfully weak to mind. He checks the bed under us (presumably to make sure there's no blood) and then reclines beside me, his arm around my middle.

There's a ripple under the skin of my stomach.

"Oops," I giggle. "I think we woke the baby."

"Sorry, little dude," Loz apologises to my belly with a worried voice, petting the shifting bump underneath. "I didn't hurt you, did I? Or your mommy?"

I smile at him, still tingling all over. "No, sweetie. You didn't hurt us, not at all. That was amazing."

"YOU are amazing, Catalina," he murmurs back in praise, leaning in to kiss me on the lips. "You're so hot and sexy and gorgeous. I can't believe you're all mine.'

"Well, I am. Get used to it, Lozzie-boy," I sigh happily and snuggle into him, closing my eyes and enjoying the warm pleasantness of our afterglow.

…..

"Cate," he begins a little while later as we're still lying in bed, sounding hesitant. "You know how I told you what Kadaj did, how he paid a whore to take my virginity?"

Opening my eyes, I turn my head on the pillow to meet Loz's gaze. "Yeah?"

"That's not the only time I've been with one. I haven't done it very often - only when I really need to, like when I can't take it anymore and am gonna explode," he hastily explains, in case I start thinking he's a sex-addict. "I thought I should tell you, before Kadaj said something about it. He'd probably do that, the little shit, just to stir up trouble between us."

He looks at me guiltily.

"You probably think I'm a disgusting pig for hiring hookers, huh?"

"Actually, no. I don't think that at all." I shake my head, understanding how lonely people can get sometimes. "They offer a much-needed service to the community and I'm sure a lot of guys make use of that service. You're definitely not the only one."

"I've had normal girls too." He frowns. "But hookers are…simpler."

Knowing how complicated and confusing a relationship with a regular woman is, I reply gently, "You don't have to explain, Loz. I understand."

I look at him in curiosity, having thought about paying for a well-hung hustler myself a couple of times when I was desperately horny and alone. I never did it, though.

"What's it like? Having sex with a professional?"

"Okay, I guess. But you can tell most of them only do it for the money. They don't give a shit about me. Some are real nice, though," he admits. "A couple of them like how big I am and I even get freebies sometimes."

Starting to feel an uncomfortable stab of jealousy, I stare at him, unwillingly picturing Loz visiting a back-alley brothel and having some blond bitch spread her legs for him, cooing in delight about how enormous his cock is. That's not a picture I like very much.

As if he knows what I'm thinking, he says in a serious tone, "I won't do it anymore, Cate, I promise. I don't need to now that I got you. From now on, nobody else is gonna touch my dick or even get to look at it. Just you. I just wanted to be honest with you so you knew."

"Thank you," I whisper, needing the reassurance. I know this all happened before I came along but now that I'm here and Loz wants me to be his girlfriend, I'd really prefer it if he didn't continue seeing whores. I don't want to share him with anyone else and more importantly, even though I'm sure he used condoms, I certainly don't want him to put me or the baby at risk of contracting any diseases or infections.

"I'm all yours now, little girl. Only yours," he repeats softly, gazing right in my eyes as he says it so I know he's telling the truth. Reassured now, I smile and kiss his cheek, grateful for his honesty. Moving my hand down to take hold of what's mine, I start to stroke it back into life, intent on giving him a freebie too. Since he's a genetically-enhanced lab-creature with super-stamina and limitless energy, he should be able to get hard again and stay hard for as long as I need him to.

And he does. Happily.

…

I awaken in the morning from the best night's rest I've had in ages. Amazing how great sex makes you sleep better. Loz isn't in bed; he must have gotten up earlier. As I'm dressing, I hear noises coming from down the hall - thuds, grunts, exclamations of effort. Sounds like two people training. Coming out, I go along the corridor and peek into the gym room. Kadaj and Yazoo are in there, sparring, Kadaj in wide-legged cotton pants with a long-sleeved tunic belted over the top. Yazoo is in a matching outfit, the thick sash tied around his waist emphasising how enviably slim it is. It's cute how they wear the same clothes. They aren't using the punching bag or skipping rope today. Instead, it looks like they're doing some kind of martial arts together, using each other for practise and throwing hits, punches and kicks, blocking and retaliating when required. It all looks very efficient and controlled, as if it's something they do often to keep their skills up. With their alien senses, the two green-eyed men must be able to detect me there but they don't break routine to glance at me. They only stop to towel off their faces and necks.

Smiling, Yazoo finally greets me with, "Good morning Cate. Sleep well?"

"I did. Thanks."

"That's funny," Kadaj dryly comments without looking over. "Didn't sound like a lot of sleeping going on."

"Kadaj…" Yazoo says warningly.

"What, like you didn't hear them?" The younger clone responds, glancing my way and acknowledging me for the first time. "I have to ask, Cate - how do you do it without Loz's weight squashing the baby? You ride him cowgirl-style?"

"Kadaj, that's enough," the middle remnant reprimands sharply, frowning at his bad-mannered brother. "Cate is a guest in our home. She is the mother of Loz's child, which makes her part of the family now, and I will not have you speak to her like that."

"My apologies," Kadaj mutters, but I can tell he doesn't mean it.

My cheeks burning with both anger and humiliation, I grit out, "I don't suppose you know where Loz is?"

"Of course we know. We have a psychic bond," the young leader smartly answers. "That's something you'll never have with him."

"I'm happy for you," I retort. "That still didn't answer my question."

Kindly, Yazoo informs me, "He's in the garage."

I nod at him. "Thank you."

As I walk away, Kadaj leers, "C'mon, Yaz. Our brother was roaring like a rutting lion last night. If you didn't hear Cate begging for it, you must have heard HIM."

Covering my mouth in shock, I stop and listen to Yazoo's reply.

"Even if I did, it's polite not to mention it. Now stop being rude and concentrate." There's a sharp cracking noise, as if Yazoo slapped him across the face and Kadaj laughs.

"Oh yes, harder!"

The thudding sounds of him and Yazoo attacking each other follow me down the corridor as I do the walk of shame.

Shit, I can't believe they heard us having sex. How mortifying. The next time Loz and I do it, I'm totally turning the stereo on.

…

It's a long trek up the concreted passageway to the garage. It's not an easy hike for a pregnant woman, especially since it's all uphill. If have to keep making this climb, I'm gonna get one of those motorised scooters or something because I'm panting by the time I get up there and have a mild stitch in my side. Loz is kneeling by of one of the three motorcycles in the garage, using a welding tool to attach a steel piece to the front of it, sparks flying everywhere. It smells like burning metal and the light is very bright, like white-hot. I shield my eyes with my hand. Flipping up a pair of tinted goggles when he sees me, Loz immediately turns off the flaming torch, gets to his feet and fetches me a stool, scoldingly asking why I didn't call for him first as he would have come down and got me and saved me the walk.

"Don't worry, I will next time," I mutter, plonking down on the round plastic seat and wiping the sweat off my brow. "It's like climbing a fuckin' mountain to get up here."

I rub at my ribs and wince. Crouching in front of me, he enquires anxiously, "Are you okay? Is the baby…?"

"We're fine. It's just a stitch," I assure, looking him up and down with a small smile. "Sexy outfit."

As well as the flip-up protective eyewear, Loz is wearing army-green overalls and there's a bandanna tied around his throat triangular-style to shield his neck and chest from sparking metal bits.

He lifts the goggles up onto his forehead and glances down at himself with a wry twist of his lips. "Oh, yeah. Real sexy."

I briefly think about telling Loz that his brothers heard us doing it last night but I don't want to embarrass him so I keep it to myself. Anyway, I'm sure Kadaj will tease Loz about it later.

"So, whatcha doing?" I enquire, gazing at the three monstrously-sized machines beside him.

"I've welded machine guns onto the front of each bike so we can shoot and ride at the same time." He motions to what he's been working on. "The mounting bracket on Kadaj's one came loose so I'm fixing it. I'm gonna reinforce Yaz's as well, so it don't happen to him and then I'll give them all a tune-up."

"Why do you have to do it? The others ride those bikes too," I remind him.

"Kadaj is too busy and important to bother changing oil or replacing brake pads. And Yazoo doesn't like getting his delicate little hands dirty." Loz is being sardonic but I can sense the truth in his words. He shrugs.

"Ah, I don't care. I enjoy messing around with bikes anyway. If I had a normal job, this is what I'd do. I'd repair 'em, restore old ones, build new ones. That kinda shit."

"Why don't you? Couldn't you quit being a hit man?"

"Kadaj wouldn't let me. Anyway, it's not so bad," he defends. "The best thing about what we do now is the pay. It's pretty damn good. We only have to do a couple of jobs a week. That means we have more time to spend looking for Mother. A regular job would get in the way of that."

"You really think you'll find her?"

"Yeah, I do." He nods positively. "Kadaj says it's only a matter of time before the reunion."

Reunion…wasn't that something I mentioned when I was sleep-talking the other night? Maybe that's what it means. Maybe the message was from Jenova, reaching out through my baby to assure everyone that she's there and will be found. But why would she need to do that? Kadaj is her conduit to the outside world. He's her son. She communicates to him directly and doesn't need me. So, maybe it's not her. Maybe the things I've been saying haven't come from his mother. But who then? It is really my baby talking through me? Or someone else?

Could it be Sephiroth?

Loz mentioned that the infamous General would return one day and that they'll all be together again as a family. I'm looking forward to meeting Jenova but I'm not so sure I want to meet Loz's father, though. I realise it's been years since he died but if Kadaj's magic is strong enough to heal his injured alien mom then he could possibly bring Sephiroth back to life too. I honestly don't think that'd be a good idea. Besides the fact that raising the dead is ultra-creepy and wrong, the guy sounds as though he was utterly insane.

But then again, I didn't know him, and I don't know the reasons why he tried to take control of a meteor and crash it into the planet. Maybe he was missing Jenova too and it was just a way to release his rage at the world keeping her from him. Maybe Sephiroth is much nicer than the news reports made him out to be.

I hope so.

I really need Loz to record my midnight ramblings so I can work out if it's an actual prophecy from a dead war criminal or just meaningless gibberish because it's frustrating and unnerving not knowing.

…

A couple of hours later, Loz is in town buying some bike parts and I'm reading on the bed waiting for some fresh grain-bread to bake in the oven when Yazoo politely knocks at the door. It's open as I'm waiting for the 'ding' of the oven timer to go off. The tall assassin has finished training and has showered and changed into dark grey slacks and a high-necked sweater.

"May I come in for a few moments?"

"Of course," I grant him, gesturing for him to enter the room. "Take a seat if you want."

He perches on the bed near me, his hair shimmering like silver threads. I try not to get too envious of his slender elegance and pale beauty.

"Please ignore Kadaj." Yazoo sounds apologetic. "He's only attempting to elicit an emotional response from you."

"Yeah, I know. I had foster-brothers once."

Yazoo looks at my stomach as I set the book aside. It's a health and fitness guide for pregnant women.

"How are you feeling?" he asks me with an inquisitive tilt of his head. "You're in the second trimester, right? Have you gotten any false contractions yet?"

Astonished that he knows what they are, I reply, "Only a couple. How do you even know about them?"

"I've been reading up online." He glances at the other books on pregnancy and childbirth I have placed on Loz's bookcase. "Would it be all right if I borrow some of those? I'd like to learn more on the topic."

"Sure," I say, surprised even further by his curiosity on the subject most guys don't even want to HEAR about, let along familiarise themselves with. "But they have some pretty gross pictures in there."

"It won't bother me. I've always had an interest in medical matters. Who do you think patches Loz and Kadaj up after they've nearly killed each other during a particularly ferocious fight?"

"They do that? Fight out of the training room, I mean?"

"You've heard them argue. Now, image them actually following through with their threats. They're like a couple of feral dogs and they don't stop unless I force them apart. If it was up to them, they'd disappear into a dark, quiet place like injured animals and not come out until they were healed but, being more concerned about my brothers' health than they are themselves, I like to make sure all their limbs are properly attached and any protruding bones are pushed back in before I let them go sulk."

"They break each other's BONES?"

"Quite often," Yazoo sighs. "And worse. I've seen ribs sticking out, intestines on the outside, punctured eyeballs, strips of flesh ripped off."

I stare at him in absolute horror.

"Oh, it all heals in time," he assures me, "and I can always help the mending along with a bit of Cure if they sit still long enough for me to use it on them."

"Cure?" I frown uneasily. "You mean magic?"

"Yes. We don't really need it as our bodily tissue fully regenerates on its own but Cure can assist with the more severe damage and make it heal faster." He shakes his head in a dismissive gesture. "Anyway, the point is, Cate, due to my brothers fighting and the experiments performed upon us back in the lab, I've witnessed all kinds of gruesome things already so I don't believe that babies being born is going to disgust me in the slightest. In fact, I've already viewed some footage on the internet and find the whole event rather interesting. Kadaj doesn't share my viewpoint but then again, he's a teenage boy. He doesn't care how babies come out; he's only interested in the act that creates them."

"Yeah, I bet," I snort, knowing what a horny little devil Kadaj is. "Well, if you wanna look at bloody vaginas, Yazoo, go right ahead. Borrow whichever books you like."

"I'm not just interested in the pictures," he stresses. "I want to learn all about the entire process. I'm beginning to find it incredibly fascinating. Especially considering how our alien DNA has somehow merged with yours. I'm curious to see how your pregnancy differs from a regular one."

Staring at him I comment, "You're really not like other guys, are you?"

"No. I certainly am not," he answers, giving me one of those mysterious smiles in return. Gods. Those smiles are gorgeous and make my stomach flip right over.

No, wait. It's just the baby changing position.

Yazoo notices as well, glancing down at the shifting bulge under my shirt.

"Here. Quick," I urge, snatching his hand and putting it on my belly before the kid stops moving. "You feel it? I think it's an elbow."

Too late, I realise that I've just grabbed Yazoo without asking and for a moment I think he'll pull away in uncomfortableness but he doesn't. Yazoo's pretty green eyes widen in surprise as he experiences a tiny poke against his palm. The baby pushes at him through the skin of my tummy, as if recognising and greeting Yazoo as their uncle and saying hello to him. It's probably true, given how close this strange extraterrestrial bond appears to be. Like Loz knowing when his brothers are hungry, or Kadaj knowing where his siblings are at any given time, I bet my baby knows exactly whose hand this is.

"Astounding," Yazoo breathes softly, holding his fingers there for a few more moments in amazed wonder. He glances back up at me, smiling delightedly at having felt his niece or nephew move for the first time.

The doorway to Loz's room is open and all of a sudden it darkens, like a shadow crossing the sun. Yazoo and I glance up at once to see Kadaj standing there, appearing none too pleased. He glares at Yazoo's hand on my stomach and for an instant I swear jealousy flashes in his eyes. Or maybe it's just revulsion.

"When you're done playing mommies, Yazoo," he sneers, "my computer has frozen up again and I need you to fix it. Now."

Rather than get annoyed at Kadaj's rudely demanding tone, Yazoo just nods amenably. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Hurry up, okay?" Kadaj snaps impatiently. "I was in the middle of some important research and I don't want to fucking lose it."

When he's gone, I turn to Yazoo, who has taken his hand away, letting it rest on his own thigh.

"Why do you let Kadaj talk to you like that?"

Yazoo just smiles patiently. "He's a teenager. He'll grow out of it."

"You hope," I retort sardonically. "I don't know how you put up with that shit everyday. I would have knocked him on his ass by now."

"Don't worry. I pay him back in the training room. I can hit him as much as I want then," he replies, his smile turning into a smirk.

"He's lucky you don't kill him."

"I don't think I could, even if I tried," he responds musingly. "Kadaj may be the youngest but he's also the strongest out of all of us. He's even stronger than Loz, you know."

I lift my eyebrows in disbelief. Kadaj is boyish and small compared to Loz's hulking frame. But then again, I remember the bleeding body count piling up in the club, most of it due to Kadaj's whirling vortex of violence. Nothing was slowing him down. It seems size doesn't matter, not when it comes to inflicting vicious damage and creating carnage.

Yazoo shakes his head and gets up with a sigh.

"I suppose I better go fix his laptop. And yes, I'm a computer geek." He aims a mock-stern look of warning at me. "Another one of those things you absolutely cannot tell anybody upon threat of execution, all right? My reputation is on the line here, Cate."

I conceal my grin admirably, thinking that although Yazoo has brains, he definitely does not look like a geek. "My lips are sealed. You won't have to shoot me."

"Excellent." Making his graceful way to the door, he murmurs over his shoulder, "I'll be back to get those books later. Kadaj will start throwing things if I don't show up in the next thirty seconds."

"I don't know why you're bothering to help him. He's probably only looking at porn anyway."

"Probably. Next to plotting world domination, sex is one of Kadaj's favourite hobbies. That and touching himself."

My eyeballs nearly pop out onto the floor in shock. First of all, why would Yazoo _tell _me something like that? And second of all, how the hell would HE know? Does he secretly watch Kadaj doing it? Does he spy on his little brother's bedroom activities using their psychic connection? Under that elegant exterior, is Yazoo really just a dirty voyeuristic pervert?

Smirking mischievously, the long-haired gunman does not answer any of those questions but instead swishes soundlessly out of the room, leaving me with very pink cheeks and a head full of naughty, completely unwanted images.


End file.
